Many, many, MANY moons ago, my ex-boyfriend's mother bought me "The Beginner's Cookbook." As you can guess, I haven't looked at it much over the past seven or eight years.
So I thought, "Kimberley, you suck at cooking. Maybe it's time to find that book and learn something." So I went to the bookshelf, found the 256-page cooking textbook -- and was instantly reminded why I chucked it to the side years ago.
Let's start with "Part 2: Before You Cook," shall we? (Brace yourself people.)
This week I was mailed my registration form for an upcoming cooking class at a local adult education center. The class is limited to 15 people so I’m really nervous that there won’t be enough room.
What a travesty that would be. Of all the kitchen-challenged people in North Jersey, I -- above all others -- need this class!
According to the course description, the instructor is a graduate of the Culinary Institute of America and after eight sessions “your family and friends will think you’re a culinary graduate!” Awesome!
I won’t know until next week if I’m been accepted, so I’m keeping my fingers crossed until then. Wish me luck!
I don't care that you're obsessed with mascarpone cheese. Nor do I care that you use words like "warm" and "earthy" to describe the flavor of certain spices (even though I have no idea what the hell "warm" and "earthy" taste like).
Half the time you cook meals that I would never try. But I don't care. Perhaps it's your enthusiasm for parmesan cheese and copious amounts of lemon zest that draws me to the TV. Or the way you get so excited over fennel bulbs and store-bought mayonnaise.
Every time I turn on "Giada at Home" or "Everyday Italian," I feel warm and fuzzy inside; like I'm sitting down and watching an old friend work her magic.
Your crab-salad Napoleans (consisting of a filling of crab salad, peas and chives) isn't my thing, but I watched the episode from start to finish anyway.
Paula Deen and Rachael Ray are lovely. But Giada takes the cake.
Here are some Giada recipes I plan to try (just as soon as I find the time):
Fine, I'll admit it. My culinary tastes leave much to be desired. I'm no "foodie" (or whatever the hell that means), I don't profess to know what marjoram is, nor do I shop at specialty stores that sell Herbes de Provence.
I like what I like. And right now, I'm obsessed with the Bensi Salad.
I had never even heard of the Italian restaurant chain until I moved to New Jersey a few years ago. And now, I'm in heaven. And it has nothing to do with their pasta or chicken marsala. Strangely enough, my love affair with this restaurant began over some lettuce and some vinegar and oil.
Ladies and gentleman, I present to you the perfect salad: The Bensi Salad, the perfect blend of iceberg and romaine lettuce, baby greens, tomatoes, cubes of mozzarella, roasted red peppers, green and black olives, and house dressing. (Note: the salad comes with sun-dried tomatoes and red onions, but I always skip those. I believe onions are the devil and sun-dried tomatoes and I no longer get along.)
I can't tell you how many times I've stopped at Bensi on my way home from work, or from the gym, JUST for the salad. I kid you not, I've purchased a to-go salad three times in one week -- but I switched up the locations (North Arlington, Clifton and Hasbrouck Heights) so the people behind the register wouldn't think I was crazy.
Now, some of you might be saying: "What's so damn special about this salad?" And to tell you the truth, I have no idea. It's wonderful because it is, OK?!
The first bite is ...absolutely exquisite! The dressing -- vinegary greatness mixed with oil and other yummy goodness -- is light and tasty, the perfect complement to the roasted red peppers and mozzarella.
Now you tell me, why should I even attempt to make salad at home when THIS exists???
Somehow, by the power invested in Giada De Laurentiis, this food processor was supposed to magically transform me from a kitchen-challenged oaf into the Italian beauty herself. I had visions of whipping up the perfect pesto, so good in fact that my boyfriend (a known cheese-hater, except for mozzarella) would marvel at the delicate texture of fresh basil, pine nuts and parmesan cheese.
I had such high hopes for me and my food processor. I thought we'd be the perfect team. But she and I have barely looked at each other.
Well aware of my kitchen diva aspirations, my boyfriend bought me a food processor for Christmas. I never opened it. It was nice. Manufactured by Black & Decker. But we live in a rather small apartment so I wasn't sure where to stash it once I opened the box. So I didn't.
