As I said recently, one of my anti-depressants is to learn how to cook at least a few impressive meals before I leave. While it's sadly plausible that I will have taught nothing to anybody here in 2 years, I'm still determined to learn a thing or two myself. It's better than nothing, and I know what 'nothing' looks like; imagine my feeling of wasted time when correcting 140 exams on Monday and Tuesday on material considerably dumbed down and reviewed 5 times, only to see 4 students get grades above 50%.
Anyway, I've embarked on a culinary adventure with several different contingencies/pathways in case of total failure. First on the list was 'how to make stir-fry anything,' with corollary question 'A': what is stir-fry? Sure, I'll admit I should probably know this, and I'm sure I've eaten it before, but I couldn't put a definition to it. When you think about it, though, this makes my job of making it that much easier. How can I fail when anything I make could be correct? Either way, I followed the directions I found online, cutting, peeling, stirring, and frying the combination of a chicken bouillon cube, ginger, soy sauce, carrots, green beens, and peanuts. Ginger, I found it, is that disgusting-looking grey blob that everyone here sells. I had always thought it was some sort of mutant fish. Well color me surprised. Rating: delicious. If we had any of the ingredients, I'd learn to make chicken and broccoli like a real fake American Chinese restaurant (R.I.P. Canton Island in Wakefield, Rhode Island. You'll always be in our hearts). I might even buy a wok, if I learn just what it looks like.
Meal 2: a better omelette. All of my prior attempts at omelettes have been failures, but how often in life does one find themselves in a situation where "failure" is, in actuality, "scrambled eggs?" Not very often, and we'd all be better off if more things in life had such a fall-out plan. But, I researched the internet for different methods, found where I had been going wrong, and experimented with new ingredients, including onions, potatoes, and green peppers. After two tries, rating: awesome. I don't have it down to a science yet, but just give me time. (I'm just kidding. Please, for the love of god, don't give me any more time). These went from being a satisfying meal, if served with some sort of side dish/dessert, to barely-able-to-eat-it-all lunch. Success!
Finally, I learned that the little cans of tomato paste that are sold in almost every store here actually have some use beyond forming the tripod in my Peace Corps oven. (The oven is an iron pot, sand, and three of these empty cans holding up the baking dish... never mind). I've never quite understood what tomato paste was, but apparently, if you add water and some herbs and spices, you get a decent pasta sauce! (I bought oregano and basil. Whether these are spices or herbs, I refuse to learn. That's simply a commitment I'm not ready to make). Now, I'm not the most observant person in the world, so when I bought two of these cans there was something I didn't quite notice at first: it's probably prudent to buy a can opener prior to their use. The opening process certainly would have been easier with one of these tools of modernity, but if you're in a bind it seems that sawing, stabbing, bludgeoning, and prying with all of one's might works just as well. It being tomato paste, though, redness was one of its primary qualities; this made find the cuts and gashes all over my hands that much harder to find. No one ever said cooking would be easy! Meal rating: not bad. I think I would have enjoyed it had I not been panting from exhaustion trying to open the cans, and enraged at how well-made they were. I think I'll cave in use technology to my advantage next time.
So that's the status of Rock the Wok '08 thus far. On the docket is cous-cous with vegetables and raisins, in case I ever need to flee to North Africa and disguise myself as a chef. I'm just trying to cover all my bases.
