So last semester, I took a cooking class with the illustrious Mr. Norkus. He had a certain disdain for people who jumped into the kitchen and just started mixing things together without any idea where they were headed or any recipe to lead them on their way. He called these people "kitchen cowboys". And generally I agree with him. We have a wonderful history of cooks who have made all the mistakes for us, and since Carême and his famous sauces in the early 1800s, people have been regularly writing down recipes, tips, and instruction for those that come after. It is in this tradition that this blog was created.
However, every once in awhile, we all like to be kitchen cowboys (or cowgirls if you prefer). We like to test our knowledge, push our skills, and fly forth into a dish using only what we have in our kitchen as our constraints. It was in this mindset, that I created the meal I am about to describe.
I had some frozen ravioli from Mama Rosie that I had just tried. I know frozen ravioli is normally pretty awful, but the Mama does all right and it's nice to have something other than angel hair for a change (without a significant increase in time).
The sauce? Red? Please something different! White? Too much with the cheese ravioli. Something citrus-y that is relatively good for me? Great! How do I make it?
Well lets try:
Extra-virgin olive oil (I used the good stuff someone bought as a gift=real olive oil (thanks Lisa!))
Orange juice would be best, but I only had limes
Garlic (of course)
Fresh dill? (Fresh parsley would have been better, but guess which one was in my refrigerator.)
Red pepper flakes (I refuse to make any Italian dish without these)
Parmesan
Put the oil in a pan, cook the garlic a bit, add the lime juice (I used one lime), a couple tablespoons of dill and taste. Not bad. Over the ravioli, a dash of red pepper, a bit of Parmesan and violà! Wonderful.
I finished with some fresh poached green beans from the local farmers' market with a little butter on them.
If I had only remembered to chill some white wine, this would have been the perfect summer meal.
Well, a kitchen cowboy can't be expected to remember everything. Beer is nice as well.
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2 comments:
I'm not sure I understand your definition of a kitchen cowboy. Does he have absolutely no idea of what he wants to make in mind? or is he coming up with it on the fly? Even if you develope your recipe based on what's available, you still have a plan in the end. I think some of my own best creations have been made in this way. If this makes me a kitchen cowboy, then I am proud to have that title.
Norkus's definition, I believe, pertained to any time that you made something without consulting a recipe beforehand. And I agree, I think a good many of us are successful kitchen cowboys (or cowgirls as the case may be).
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