Winter Coats and Home Cooking, Oh My

Winter is coming on faster than I would like. In southern West Virginia our winters have recently been so mild that I could get by with a heavy sweatshirt instead of a winter coat. I hate winter coats. They're heavy, they constrict movement, and my legs--usually jean clad--never get warm. (I once tried a long coat and spent most of my time falling up bus steps. It wasn't worth the little added warmth.)

Worse, much worse, I am five hours away from home and the best cook of winter food goodness. I am a food snob. I freely admit it. My mom is a kickin' cook. And in the winter she makes, more often, some of my favorites: potato soup, open faced roast beef, squash casserole, baked spaghetti--the list could continue to forever.

This is so disastrous for me for two reasons: 1) I am a terrible cook. 2) She doesn't use recipes. When I ask for directions she says things like, "Oh, just toss in however much looks good." "Looks" can alternately be replaced with "tastes" and so the debacle continues.

You may not believe me about the bad cook part (everyone says that, right?), but here are some examples:

Two days ago I burned turkey sausage which only requires being heated through. It is all ready fully cooked.

When making stuffed mushrooms I twice caught on fire a rag I was using instead of an oven mitt; then, I took the pan out with my bare hand and dropped it on the floor.

I have had to throw out at least two skillets of steak in the last year because they were not edible.

And, it once took me two hours to make egg salad. (For those worse then me, egg salad requires boiling, peeling, then cutting the eggs. Then, you mix with mayonnaise, mustard, and whatever else you might want to throw in. It should not take two hours.)

I was spoiled as an undergraduate. I commuted from home. Often when I would get in at 8 p.m. from class or sometime after midnight from work there would be food in the fridge, even a plate fixed for me to pop in the microwave.

Believe me, I have tried to convince my boyfriend to be the houseboy. (He can cook. At least, now that I have convinced him to use salt.) He says he's agreeable once I start making mad money by publishing something. So, lamentably, I have to continue the struggle with my nights of cooking until I pen the next Twilight or Harry Potter phenomenon.

So, for those of you out there who struggle like I do, I have some suggestions:

Be fearless. So, you'll have to toss out $20 worth of groceries on a meal gone wrong now and then. Keep some box mac and cheese at hand to comfort your in your time of loss.

The slow cooker is your friend. Really. You can't mess it up. It cooks too slowly for that. Plus, there are books of recipes, not to mention what you can find on-line.

For first tries, only have people you trust around. Yes, they'll tease you, but they'll also know where your fire extinguisher is located.

And, as a spot of inspiration, I made my mom's potato soup last night. Granted, I called her twice while making it. And, soup is sort of a relative term as far as its consistency is concerned. But, hey, it tastes great and heats you straight through on these cold Baltimore days. Yes, I'll say it of my own cooking: It is better than a winter coat.

Three Things I've Found: Actually, re-found. Velveeta cheese makes all things better. My cocker-spaniel is only selectively hearing impaired, the rat. And Belvedere Square: Daedalus Books and Ryan's Daughter. Buy books, then eat. Or vice-versa. Maybe the lethargy of being stuffed on good Irish fare will keep you from spending too much--or the extreme discounts at Daedalus will. Either way, it works.

Three Things I Still Need to Find: Money trees. I thought, for a brief and golden time as a small child, that they might exist. I'm going to keep hoping. Whether or not this apartment friendly wall paper is really as great as they say it is, non-woven indeed. And, finally, a winter coat. Damn it.