In all honesty, I should probably entitle this post: "My mom's kitchen" because it is my mother- the full-time navigator of the corporate world, the endless burst of energy in human form, and the best mom I could ask for- that made the kitchen the most comfortable space in my home.
You see, being home for the summer means readjusting- relearning the rules of the kitchen, the nooks where certain utensils, pots, and pans reside, the corners where we hide the jars of plum-raspberry jam from Fresno, and the surfaces of the counter top that are prone to get messy and therefore must be kept under vigilant watch.
Unfortunately, in this three person home, my mom's kitchen is also a "one person at a time" kind of place. It's really not an issue of physical space (multiple people could comfortably cook at once in the room) but rather of mental space. When my mother, brother, and I are in the kitchen, the energy is unstoppable. The room transforms into an arena, with two people challenging the one proposing to cook to a competition of words. Ironically, the person wielding the pots and pans is in danger- the other two are free to attack on all verbal fronts. My brother and I reproach my mother's recycling habits, my mom and brother ridicule my predilection towards beans and tofu, and my mom and I LOVE making fun of my brother's cleaning habits. Oh man.
Anyway, I say this in jest. People are totally welcome to come over and cook- but when it's just the three of us, things get dangerous. That's partly why this blog has been barren for the summer (aside from that lovely Turkish coffee post, you saved me Ana!)- it's HARD to get in that kitchen and cook. I'm telling you!
But sometimes there's no verbal warfare in the kitchen. It's as if we all relinquished white flags before entering the room. In fact the only thing one can hear is music. On these evenings, my mom will come home from work and put some of the most
soulful,
meaningful, and
creative music that I know on the little kitchen stereo. The familial discussion will cease, and the foot stomping on our worn wooden floors will commence. Any potential difficulties cooking together disappear, as my mom and I shout the lyrics to the amazing music and dance like there's no tomorrow. I find myself singing songs with crazy titles like: "Free Man in Paris" and with lyrics along the lines of: "Tin soldiers and Nixon's coming. We're finally on our own!" As we sing and dance, we cook- it just works, no one says anything, we just each take a role and know what to do. Generational gaps crumble in that kitchen. Words no longer have any meaning...well, unless they're the lyrics to a song.
At about the time that I finally realize how ridiculous I look protesting the Vietnam war in the middle of my kitchen, and that I am not at Woodstock, dinner is ready to be served. We turn the music down, exhausted, and sit down to eat. My dog, who already has no idea what the heck we're doing, sighs heavily and lies down, defeated, under the table. What a catharsis.
Last night was a similarly great experience. My mom was out to dinner so my brother and I put on an
old CD from our childhood and cooked away. We made some fajitas and rice, adapted from recipes from some lovely books. I thought I'd share them with you, as they were quite delicious.
So here's to music, company, and kitchens. Three things that have made my life that much richer.
Improvised Fajitas
(with a spice mixture adapted from "The Complete Mexican, South American and Caribbean Cookbook", a gift from a truly remarkable friend :))
1/2 yellow or white onion, chopped coarsely
2 cloves of garlic, minced
1 bell pepper chopped
1/2 serrano or similarly spiced pepper, chopped
2 tomatoes, chopped
leftover cooked chicken, beef, or grilled vegetables
1 1/2 tsp. sugar
1/2 tsp. cinnamon
1/2 tsp. oregano
1/2 tsp. chile powder
dash of cayenne pepper
salt and pepper to taste
Heat some oil in a skillet on medium heat. Add onions and garlic and cook for a few minutes- until onions are translucent. Add bell and chili peppers and cook, again for a few minutes. Add spices, tomatoes, and meat/grilled vegetables. Cook for a good amount of time on high heat, then, if there's a lot of liquid in the pan, bring heat down to low and cook on a simmer.
Mexican Rice
(adapted from "Cooking with the Seasons at Rancho la Puerta")
1/2 white onion (or other half from fajitas), coarsely chopped
1 clove garlic, minced
1/2 serrano or similarly spiced pepper, chopped
1 carrot, minced
1 tsp. California chile
1 cup long grain rice
1 medium tomato pureed with 2 cups water
salt and pepper to taste
In a medium saucepan heat a small amount of oil. Add onions, garlic, carrots, and pepper and cook for a few minutes, until onions are translucent. Add the rice, chile powder, and a bit of salt and cook for a minute. Add the tomato puree to the pan, bring mixture to a boil. Then turn heat down and simmer mixture for thirty minutes (I'd check on it after 20)... until rice is fluffy.
Enjoy!
