Survey 2: a teens perspective

For my second survey, I interviewed Caiti Darish a fellow AP Englisher and friend. When asked, she graciously accepted to do this survey during seminar. So, thanks Caiti for taking the time! As you will see, her answers are much more reasonable lengthwise (thanks for that too!). My response will be in the next post.

Cooking Survey

Name: Caiti Darish

Age (roughly): 18

1. Do you like (i.e. enjoy) cooking?

I really enjoy it! It allows me to be creative and try new and exciting things.

2. Are you the main meal provider in your house?

Usually my family splits things up during the week, but it is not unusual for me to make the whole meal for my family for much of the week. When I am home alone, I will make myself a complete meal. No takeout!

3. What is your favorite meal to make?

I am really into grilling chicken and fish.

4. How old were you when you first started to cook?

I first started baking when I was five, and I would help my mom make Christmas cookies.

5. Give me the lowdown on an average meal:

Our average meal has a salad, vegetables, protein, and a grain.

6. Do you think there’s a difference between cooking and baking?

Definitely! Baking is a lot harder I my opinion because it requires exact measurements where as cooking leaves a lot more room for error.

7. Do you express your personality through your food? How?

Yes, I love to express creativity and it allows me to try out things I may not have done before.

8. Do you feel that having to cook has affected other aspects of your life?

It has made me consider a career in culinary and affected my decisions for college.

HOW TO: Beef tenderloin

I had plans, BIG plans over Christmas break to pretty much cook my brains out. Unfortunately that never happened...instead I watched my mother cook our annual family Christmas party dinner, in this case being beef tenderloin. I would have cooked it myself if my mom would have let me, but alas, she wanted a dinner that could actually be served. So, I had to settle on her giving me a step-by-step tutorial. Now it's my turn to teach you, and hopefully by the time I'm done, you will be able to make a scrumptious meaty meal.

Let the cooking begin:
First, she told me to wash my hands. I asked why (because I wasn't even cooking), but she said just do it because it is mandatory when your cooking so I should get used to it. After that mini lesson she turned to the oven and set it for 390 degrees. (I always forget to do this at the beginning and end up having to wait for it to heat up after everything's already prepared). I asked her where her recipe was so I could write it down. She just pointed to her head and said I don't need a recipe, I just know the basics and then wing it. This might have been fine for her, but I don't do well with "winging it". Anyways, she grabbed two huge slabs of bloody meat about the length of my arm. She took a knife and sliced open the plastic. This allowed a bunch of blood to ooze out (one of the reasons cooking is G.R.O.S.S.). Mom was not deterred in the least, but went right on the tell me that at this point you can trim the meat of it's fat. She decided to skip this in favor of flavor. Taking out the beef, she folded it in half ad tied it up like a present with kitchen string. This, she said, was to prevent uneven cooking. (one side was very skinny and the other relatively fat, almost like the top part of an exclamation point.) Mom then squeezed both enormous pieces of folded meat into the aluminum pan and started seasoning. I asked her how much of each seasoning she used but again she told me that she could just tell when it was enough (very helpful mom, thanks). Anyways, after putting on imprecise measurements of salt, pepper and Montreal Streak Sauce, and rubbing the meat with gross enthusiasm, she dumped out the extra blood and settled the steak in the middle of the oven (again, for even cooking) with NO COVER (She was very specific about this).
The entire time she was cooking, my mom gave me little bits of wisdom, for example: Never freeze good meat!!! It'll ruin the juices or something.
By this time, we were pretty much done. All that was left was to wait about an hour then check to see the temperature of the meat. Mom said that we wanted it to be about 120-125 degrees because it would continue to cook after we take it out (COVER ON this time). By the time it would be done it would be around 130-135 degrees. And all we'd have to do is cut and serve it up.

After watching the whole process of cooking the beef, I was prepared to be completely disgusted and only take a tiny bit. Of course, once I tasted it I took a huge chunk. It was SO good: all juicy (don't think about the blood, don't think about the blood...) and tender. It was a big success at the party. I'm hoping next year I get to do more than watch the meal preparations.
Here's the final product: Delicious looking right?
Well, this isn't the exact beef tenderloin that we made (I found it on the internet), but it looks uncannily similar to the master piece my mom made.

Avoidance turned into art

Here's a little poem I wrote over thanksgiving break (when I was supposed to be cooking):

Food is yummy, food is gross
Cooking food I hate the most.
But, if i want to live - And I assure you I do,
Then, eventually I'll have to cook, for me and for you.

I'll be here til Thursday...

Blueberry Muffins, The Magnificent

***Previously on Julia’s Child?... “Cath is awesome. My inspiration is back FULL FORCE!...The next morning, I was up at exactly 7 and ran to wake my mom up to take me to the grocery store…I was disappointed once again when she informed me that they didn’t open until 8 am, but I didn’t let that get my spirits too far down. I ran around the kitchen getting things prepped for when I did have my ingredients…”***
We left ten minutes before eight, with a lot of bouncing on my part and grumbling on my moms. It took us all of fifteen minutes to gather what we needed. It would have taken much longer had I not told my mom sternly that we weren’t shopping for the week, just my breakfast. On a whim (isn’t that an awesome word?), I decided I’d also make some cinnamon bread and fruit salad to accompany my muffins. In the bread section I had a little trouble choosing which type of bread I should make the cinnamon toast with. It was between Italian bread – the softer of the two with a thicker crust, and French bread – which was a courser, baguette-like bread. This is a close interpretation of what they actually looked like. Italian on the top, French on the bottom.

How do you even choose? It was a very tough call but, in the end, I chose Italian.
Finally, after an awkward greeting from a former neighbor (can you EVER go to Hiller’s and NOT see someone you know?) we were on our way back to my kitchen. I eagerly spread all my ingredients and cooking utensils out on to my kitchen counter, rolled up my sleeves, washed my hand and got to work.
At this point, I took out the directions that Cath had emailed me and read them over very carefully; I didn’t want a repeat of when I screwed up a meal simply because I didn’t read the directions beforehand. (This specific time being when I babysat for my neighbors and they asked me to make Easy Mac for the kids. Easy, right? NO. I ended up putting the milk and butter into the boiling water with the noodles instead of after they were strained. Let’s just say that we had some cheese and crackers for dinner and the mom never had me cook for them again. So, you can see why I was so diligent in my direction reading…)

Here’s the recipe and directions given by Cath:
3 cups all purpose flour
2 t baking powder
1 t fine table salt
3/4 t ground cinnamon
3/4 cup plus 2 T granulated sugar
6 T (3/4) stick unsalted butter
1 cup whole milk
3 large eggs, preferably organic
1 cup fresh or frozen blueberries (or substitute with another fruit of your choice i.e., raisins; feel free to omit as well to make plain muffins)
1. Preheat the oven to 400 F. Line a standard size muffin pan (really, any size muffin tin will do since you’re just plopping the batter into the paper cups and it’ll just give you more or less muffins depending on the size of the tin) with paper cups.
2. Sift the flour into a large bowl with the baking powder, salt, and cinnamon. Stir in the sugar. Mix in the butter using a fork or pastry blender until the mixture resembles bread crumbs (I simply use my hands to break up the butter — squeeze the butter cubes and mix it with the flour until it’s incorporated).
3. Using a fork, whisk together the milk and eggs. Whisk this liquid quickly into the flour mixture, then gently fold in the blueberries with a rubber spatula.
4. Divide the batter equally among the muffin cups. Bake the muffins in the middle of the oven for 20-25 minutes until risen and golden brown. Let cool in the pan for a few minutes before removing. Serve warm, or as soon as possible after baking.

KEY TO PERFECTION: For light as air muffins, you must mix quickly and lightly. This is especially important when making fruit muffins since there’s more mixing involved. After whisking the liquid into the dry ingredients, gently fold the blueberries through the batter using a spatula. Do this quickly and don’t try to make the batter smooth. It should be sloppy and lumpy.

I followed the directions exactly per Cath’s wise instruction: “think of cooking as art and baking as science — with cooking you can get a little free with the measurements; with baking, stick with the recipe as written or face disaster!” So, that’s what I did.
I had my dad in full photographer mode. Here are some pictures of the messy, yet delicious process of making the blueberry muffins:

Diligent instruction reading! And please don’t mind my red neck attire. :)

How crafty does this picture look? Kudos daddy!

Sloppy AND lumpy, just what the doctor ordered.

While the muffins were in the oven, I chopped up the fruit (apples, pears, bananas, strawberries, nectarines, and grapes) semi-professionally, and started to butter up the toast. Right as the muffins came out and the cinnamon toast went in, my sister came upstairs and I went to go wake my dad up. I got out some plates for the meal, cups for the juice, and the fruit salad from the fridge. Within minutes I had the muffins on a plate and ready to be served.
And, here’s the final result:

And now, a close up on the stars themselves: THE MUFFINS EVERYONE!
(the audience applauds)Yummy, yummy, yummy!

They were SO good, as agreed on by everyone who tasted them (even the ever picky Darbi).
SO: another meal successfully completed and most definitely destined to be repeated (rhyming for affect).

Lauren

***SIDENOTE (of exasperation): My computer is being really stupid and is italicizing at random the posts I put up, which is really annoying because then you can’t see where I MEANT to italicize (hence the occasional CAPS). Watch, now that I’ve said this it won’t italicize this one…spiteful little twerp.

Inspiration in the form of a Friend

Back in January, around the time I was having some serious doubts about this whole cooking thing, I needed some major encouragement and guidance, and thought: who better to give me some sage advice than the magnificently AWESOME Mr. Cronin? So I went to him with my dilemma: a much undesired lack of inspiration. We discussed a bunch of different options about how I should approach the rest of my blogging experience. One thing he thought would really help was feedback from an outside source. I took this wisdom and ran.

That night I searched through what felt like hundreds of different cooking blogs. When I found one that I liked, I would leave a message, practically begging for someone to check out my blog. I didn’t have much hope that anyone would respond (a repeat of my personal blog), especially anyone from one the more popular blogs, because who really wants to follow some kid's amateur cooking attempts? Answer: not a lot of people. So, imagine my absolute surprise when two hours later I had received a very in-depth email from a woman named Cath who ran a very popular blog called A Blithe Palate (I highly recommend any lover of cooking or great writing to check it out, I do every day for updates!), saying that she had read over my blog and would love to help me with anything I needed for my project.

Cath’s enthusiasm and willingness to help me was extremely inspiring. The way she talked to me about what she cooked/baked and her ever encouraging comments on my (to me) questionable abilities, relit my fire for this project, and then some. She seemed to have complete faith in my ability to cook– something that I seemed to lack, but when she told me I could do it, I believed her! Now, because of Cath, I don’t believe any cooking feat is beyond me, if only I try. Cheesy, but so, so true… When she told me that I had inspired her to write more often on her blog, I could barely believe it! I had inspired an amazing (because I know she is) cook! Me! I mean, WOW! When I saw that comment, I was so incredibly PUMPED that I wanted to run up stairs and just start cooking whatever we had and never stop. When I shared this with my mom, thinking she’d be as excited as me (I mean, I actually WANTED to cook, A LOT), she shut me down. “Lauren,” she said, “it’s 1:34 in the morning. How about you wait until like 7?” And, because I am a reasonable person, I agreed. I went to bed, all excited and twitchy, barely able to wait for tomorrow to arrive. That morning, I was up at exactly 7 and ran to wake my mom up to take me to the grocery store. (SIDE NOTE: Why did I wake up so early, besides from my obvious excitement you ask? You see, I have this thing for waking up to breakfast. I think it’s just so…so magical, and happy. Anyways, I really, REALLY wanted to finish breakfast before my dad and sister woke up, hence the early rise. Long explanation, is there any other kind from me?) I was disappointed once again when she informed me that they didn’t open until 8 am, but I didn’t let that get my spirits too far down. I ran around the kitchen getting things prepped for when I did have my ingredients…

Whoa, I had planned on this post being completely Cath-and-her-inspiration-on-me-oriented, but I guess I can’t mention her without talking about the blueberry muffin recipe she gave me (which is the cause of my little diversion above). I promise that my next post, will be about that particular cooking conquest.

So, to conclude this very long post (I seriously have a problem when it comes to keeping things short) and get back on topic once again: Cath is awesome. My inspiration is back FULL FORCE! And have I mentioned that Cath is AWESOME?

keeping it short is not my forte.

Here we go with round two: I’m next to my heater, got some grapes and water, and am rockin’ to The Rolling Stones so I’m officially prepared to hash out the rest of my mom’s VERY EXTENSIVE survey… Now, without further adieu, on to question four:
1. Wow, she started off just like me it seems: the only difference was that she was twelve and I am practically an adult (18), how sad. And of course, here comes the Sweden House story. How many times I’ve heard it, I couldn’t tell you, but I can say it’s been ten too many. My mother doesn’t seem to notice that it loses its hilarity after the 25th time. I appreciate it none the less, and it definitely covers her first experiences with cooking. Her incident there somewhat reminds me of my own restaurant experience. Last year I started working at Little Italy, an Italian restaurant downtown. I worked as a hostess and a carryout girl (they had a shop on the side of the restaurant that served the takeout). The job was cool and so were the people (mostly college students who were awesome and nice), it was such a shame when it caught fire…but I digress. The first month or two, I wasn’t expected to help cook anything, but as time went on and I became more comfortable, they asked me to help make things. This terrified me to no end. I did NOT want an upset customer yelling at me for my questionable contribution. Alas, the cook finally roped me into helping make the tiramisu and cannoli cream. I, of course, made a complete mess, but he was patient and in the end the desserts turned out pretty darn delicious, if I do say so myself. Of course, right after I gained this new confidence, Little Italy caught fire. So there went that opportunity…it couldn’t have been an omen, could it?
2. I don’t really know what I was trying to ask with this question. Now that I look back on it, it seems a little too opened. Never the less, my mom answered awesomely, like I knew she would. I always wondered where people find their recipes. I mean, I am aware of cook books, I’m not an idiot, I just didn’t understand how someone could look through cookbooks and fine a meal. Okay, that didn’t come out right either…What I’m trying to say, I suppose, is that I don’t see how people have the patience to do it, or the interest. I don’t know about you, but choosing between a chicken cooked in something lemony and a chicken cooked in a flaky sauce just doesn’t do it for me. Just give me chicken and I’m happy.
My mom goes on to describe a very specific meal, which coincidentally, we had a couple weeks ago (it was scrumptious).
3. As I’ve delved deeper into cooking, I’ve come to realize that I’m the exact opposite of my mom when it comes to cooking vs. baking. I agree with her completely that bake is more precise, but that is exactly what I love about it. Having to measure exact amounts of ingredients and watching over my food obsessively is something I would do even if I weren’t baking, it’s just my personality. The necessity for preciseness in baking just fuels my OCD-like tendencies.
4. She says that she expresses herself through what and how she cooks. It makes sense: we are what we eat, so why can’t we be what we cook? Answer: we can. So according to my mom’s cooking, she is healthy, well-rounded and sweet with a bit of creative spice. Yum.
5. We got some cliché mom stuff going on down on her number eight, but what can I expect? She’s a mom, so she gave a mom’s perspective. It makes sense.
Man! That took another hour and a half and now my grapes are gone and I’m overheating. I’ll try to write another one tonight, but I’m tired so we’ll see…
Over and out
Lauren

Questions 1-3 Made Me Chatty

After a very long break, during which I self-meditated on my cooking endeavor (briefly and sporadically) and pretty much just tried to keep up with my life, I am back! Now, I will finally sit down and dissect my mother’s survey to see what hidden meanings and/or insights I might acquire. I plan on taking this question-by-question in order to A) organize my thoughts and B) at least try to add some structure to the process. Okay, on to question one:

1. This question didn’t really give me much new information to go on that I don’t already know. (Her being my mom does add a slightly different advantage because I know her personally and now am able to analyze her answers objectively) I know, and can see daily, her love for cooking. Every time she makes a meal she fully commits herself to it. I can also vouch for her creativity in the kitchen. She seems to be making something new every week and in most cases, it turns out in her favor, or my whole families favor if you know what I mean…J I’ve never understood my mom’s connection and the true happiness she gets from cooking. I always thought it was just a mom thing, but it’s not. It’s just her and her weird love for creating delicious meals.

2. It’s sort of a tradition that every Sunday after dinner, my mom hauls out a piece of paper and we each tell her 2-3 meals we would like for the following week. I didn’t always want to cooperate during these little meetings because I thought: why should I need to know what I want to eat for the rest of the week? What if I change my mind? I mean, is spontaneity finally dead!? But now that I’ve seen the light, (or in less clichéd terms: realized the work that is put into shopping for and preparing a meal is much easier when planned ahead) I’ve come to respect the Sunday night meal planning. I mean, anything to make my mom’s life easier, seeing as she birthed me, clothed me, and of course fed me for the past 17 and a half years. This little insight to the very drawn-out process of cooking has made me realize just that: cooking isn’t a spontaneous thing. You need to decide what to make, get the ingredients, and then actually prepare the meal.

3. In my family, finding a meal that everyone likes isn’t something you come by often. The selective eater namely being my younger sister, Darbi. Going through phases like infant-meat-lover, nothing-but-sweets-for-me-girl, vegetarian-when-meat-I-don’t-like-is-being-served-kid, and of course my all-time favorite (and current phase) vegetarian-except-for-evey-unhealty-type-of-meat-namely-bacon-girl, it has never been easy for my mom to please everyone at the table and still keep it healthy. Despite these difficulties, my mom did it and continues to do it and I still don’t know how. If and when I cook for my family, it will be a big enough deal for me to just be COOKING let alone all of them liking it. Heaven forbid I birth a vegan or a kid who’s allergic to something dangerously common like peanut butter or the like, because if I do, I’ll be screwed.

That’s all I have time for tonight, but I plan on really starting to crank out some posts this week. I’ve got a lot of cooking revelations to share with you guys, (which I now realize is one or two random people who come across this, and eventually, Mr. Cronin when I turn it in). It just helps me write when I think it’s to people rather than just for me. Anyways, the rest of my reaction to my mom’s survey will be put up relatively soon. It is taking much, MUCH longer than I expected… but what can I do; I’m just a long winded writer.

Lauren