Iron Chef? More Like Tin Chef

Let me start by stating something obvious: I am not a very good cook. My parents love to cook, my relatives enjoy making culinary delights, I even have friends who blog about their love of food preparation. I'm not as enthusiastic. In true Irish fashion, my philosophy is "if you can boil it, I can make it", and that's pretty much it. I rock at macaroni and cheese or various derivatives thereof, I can use the oven to cook chicken or make french fries. As a young single guy, that's pretty handy, because it gives me more time to do guy things... or to do nothing. Whatev.

However, as time has passed, it has become abundantly clear to me that nothing snaps a guy into action like boredom. Being bored with the same things for dinner again and again, or just deciding, "Hey, I've got nothing going on, let me see if I can throw something together in the oven." Granted, as a graduate student, these moments of boredom don't happen very often (and likely won't happen at all once this semester really gets going), so one must take advantage. And considering I'm the son of a food service manager and a Masters degree-holder in home economics, it's about damn time I started using the talents I got from heredity.

So recently, I took a few turns at cooking for myself. I started with my mom's tuna noodle casserole recipe; after all, it's winter time and that means comfort food.

A lot of cooking has to do with timing. This is a skill that I, as the King of Bad Timing, am notably deficient at. My first attempt to make tuna noodle casserole suffered from the fact that some recipes are best prepared when you are multi-tasking. If you follow a recipe to the letter and do things one piece at a time, it will take twice as long. This is not good, because I'm a guy, and I want to get back to doing something else or doing nothing. So I made up the concoction that the noodles would go into... then had to do the noodles. This led to a very exasperated 30 minutes of waiting for the water to boil and then cooking the noodles, while I periodically had to go back and stir up this goop AGAIN. End result? Eh. Noodles could've been better but it served its purpose.

Having accomplished this, it was now time to get even more adventurous. Over time, I have been given "cookbooks for guys" by various members of my family. I figured it's about time I start using them. Also, I need to eat more meat to help with my workout strategies. So I decided I should make chicken in a way that doesn't involve throwing some name-brand chicken strips on a plate and sticking them in the microwave. This would, of course, require a more focused trip to the grocery store than I'm used to. I shop for groceries the same way I shop for anything, the "guy" way: I know what I want (usually the same things every time), I go in, I get them, and get out, as quickly as possible... so I can get back to doing other things or doing nothing. Last weekend, I happened to be out in the suburbs getting a haircut and doing some banking, so I decided to make a stop in lovely Media, PA and go to that trend-setter of 21st century grocery stores, Trader Joe's.

First of all, I should describe Media. It's a very nice-looking small town, a beautiful Main Street, looks exactly like a small town should. However, it's the 21st-century blue-state version of Main Street USA, which means that Main Street is dotted with coffeehouses, art shops, and boutiques, in a town that prides itself on being "the first fair-trade community", next to a major interstate artery that the locals blocked for over 20 years (and you thought Average Syracusan was bad). As such, I discovered quickly when I entered Trader Joe's that this was a place that BELONGED in Media, and I DID NOT. I get the notion of selling only your own products (after all, why pay an evil corporation to carry their products), and people have shown they will pay more for organic/free-range/chemical-free food, but I quickly realized that this is just not my scene. However, I did manage to find a package of hormone-free chicken legs for 2 bucks, so I grabbed that, some all-natural turkey bologna, and a jug of "certified organic" mango lemonade, went through the checkout... and promptly went to Acme and bought Corn Flakes. Kellogg's Corn Flakes. THAT'S America, baby!

Anyway, I bring my chicken home, chicken that says "keep refrigerated"... and I promptly put it in the freezer. Oops. Not the first time I've done something like this.

After having to take an extra day to thaw it out by putting it in the fridge where it was SUPPOSED to go, I was finally ready to give it a go. I get the cookbook out, look for a nice oven-fried chicken recipe, and I find a recipe for a sort-of poor man's Shake & Bake. The recipe suggests that I make a nice crunchy coating for the chicken which requires, among other things, CORN FLAKES. Even the King of Bad Timing can pull off a miracle once in a while. And I had all the other spices and such, because my mom gave me those once upon a time... ya know, in the unlikely event that I may actually use them someday. The end result? Eh. It was okay but when you make fried chicken and the skin falls off when you bite into it, that kinda ruins the point of putting a coating on it. Also the "putting your mix in a paper bag and shaking it" routine is a little clunky. The first chicken leg came out of the bag looking pretty good, the second was alright, and the third was... hardly covered at all. When I went back and used the recipe again, I just took the crushed corn flakes and spices and sprinkled it on the chicken directly. Cut out the middle man. After all, as I say so often, necessity is the mother of invention, but laziness is the father. It pretty much came out the same.

So now that I have successfully broadened my cooking horizons and expanded my repertoire, what's next for me? Beef bourguignon? Duck a l'orange? Shrimp scampi? Uh, no. The semester is ramping up and I am sure that soon I will have no time or interest in anything beyond English muffin pizzas. Besides, I haven't had a total cooking abortion yet, so maybe it's best to quit while I'm ahead?