When I was a very little girl, my mother taught me how to get up on a stool and microwave my own bottle. This began my lifelong love affair with quick and easy meals, of satisfying my hunger without the hassle of pre-planning or pre-heating. I became a master sandwich artist with a specialty: the triple decker grilled cheese. I found I enjoyed the science of baking, but the words “add to taste” made me quake in my apron. And somewhere along the line, I started telling myself that I couldn’t cook.
I would tell you with a straight face, “I can’t cook!” despite the fact that I made this, this, and this. I’d happily bake my little heart out, and would reluctantly declare that I could cook, but only with a recipe! Even armed with written instructions, I was only enthusiastic about cooking when I was acting as sous chef to someone else’s culinary genius. (And I really didn’t like having to be in control of making sure that all of the elements of the meal are hot and ready to eat at the same time.)
When my dear friend Anne came to visit, she discovered the raging depths of my cooking self doubt when she found out that I was afraid to make soup.
“You just add whatever you have into a pot, season it and let it heat up!” Anne exclaimed.
“But don’t you see?! That’s exactly how I ruin things — I over season!” I retorted. I was always ready to point out my flaws.
She just shook her head, and then we made soup. I watched to learn, but a little voice inside my head whispered, “Do you really think you can do this on your own?!”
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Fast forward to some time in late 2012, when I made a conscious decision to stop being inadvertently negative, both toward myself and toward the world. All of the “I should’s” and “I don’t think I can’s” and “I can’t's” had to go, including my thirty-year-old mantra of “I can’t cook.”
For someone who fears a primary role in the kitchen, I sure rip out, print and save a lot of recipes to try. The other day, I went through a stack of magazine recipes and tossed all of the ones that I didn’t think I could successfully substitute dairy products in, or that no longer looked yummy. Two filtered to the top — a Pioneer Woman recipe for Italian Chicken Soup (for which I’d previously purchased a specific type of pasta), and one for Turkey & Veggie Meatloaf Minis that was printed in People magazine.
The soup — doctored to not include jalapenos, heavy cream or Parmesan cheese — was excellent. I split the pot and traded with Mom for some homemade beef vegetable soup, and Mom reported that both she and Dad thought the soup was “excellent.” Inspired by that result (plus finding myself growing tired of eating from the same three homemade soups for lunch and dinner while I was sick), I decided to tackle the meatloaf recipe after work today. Without grocery shopping specifically for this recipe. Would this be a disaster? Or would I prove to myself once and for all that I can cook?
Okay, so here are the two recipes so that you can compare them. I emboldened the items in my recipe that were different from my source recipe.
Lisa Lillien’s Turkey & Veggie Meatloaf Minis
- 1/2 cup grated onion
- 7 tbsp. ketchup, divided
- 1.25 lb. lean ground turkey
- 3 cups shredded broccoli coleslaw, chopped
- 1/2 cup fat-free liquid egg substitute
- 1/2 cup quick-cooking oats
- 2 tsp. garlic powder
- 1 tsp. salt
Jen’s Turkey Quinoa-Rice Meatloaf Muffins
- 1/2 cup grated onion
- 7 tbsp. ketchup, divided – 1/4 cup in mixture, 3 tbsp. to brush on top
- 1.25 lb. lean ground turkey
- 1 pkg. Seeds of Change Organic Quinoa & Whole Grain Brown Rice
- 1 egg
- 2 tsp. garlic powder
- 1 tsp. salt
- sprinkle of dried basil
- 3/4 tsp. Mt. Elbert All-Purpose Seasoning
Mom was coming over for dinner, and she’s gluten free, so I couldn’t substitute bread crumbs (an ingredient I know Mom used to put in her meatloaf) for the quick-cooking oats. Searching through my pantry, I found one 90-second-microwave pouch of quinoa and whole grain brown rice. My experience with quinoa is that it definitely needs to be mixed with other foods or dressings that have flavor, because it’s pretty boring on its own. I figured the mix would blend well with the lean turkey, supporting the meatloaf flavor without trying to take over, and since it was a quick-cook package it wouldn’t need any additional preparation. Since neither Mom nor I has an egg allergy or a cholesterol issue, I went ahead and used an egg. And then after putting in the garlic and salt, I added a sprinkle of dried basil and about 3/4 tsp. of Mt. Elbert All-Purpose Seasoning that I bought on a trip to Colorado a while back.
I threw everything in a bowl, mixed it up WITH MY HANDS (Yes, Mom, I made a face while doing it!), and then plopped equal-sized portions of the meat mixture into a greased muffin pan. After I brushed the tops of each little mound of meat with the additional portion of ketchup, the pan went into the oven, which had been pre-heated to 350 degrees. 35 minutes later the meatloaf muffins were ready to join some mixed veggies on a plate.
“Well,” I looked at my mother. “It’ll either be good or it won’t. If it’s just a little bit not good, I have more ketchup. If it’s a lot not good, at least Dad left you with leftovers at home!”
I was busy getting situated and setting up the laptop to the first episode of Season 3 of Downton Abbey, so Mom took the first bite. “It’s good!” she declared. And a minute later, I had to agree — it was good! Yummy, in fact. And best of all, each muffin was only 120 calories!
“Can I take some with me to work for lunch tomorrow?”
“Absolutely, Mom.”
My dear, I am not surprised. “I knew you had it in you all along!” Seriously, though, I’ve found that the more you practice and relax your expectations (see your comment “It’ll either be good or it won’t”) the easier it gets. You ARE a good cook and you don’t have to do it every day to consider yourself one.
Me, I cook because I find the work of treating myself to something that makes me smile to be comforting. And if I have a crappy day or am feeling lazy, I might take out something pre-packaged and add a bunch of vegetables to it.
And if you have too much soup, freeze servings of it and pull it out of the freezer when you’re feeling lazy. Or trade with friends for some of their leftovers.
I am so proud of you! Setting aside “I can’t” is very hard! Much love and pride.
That’s a huge leap in thinking my friend. Good Job! I, like Anne, had no doubts about you at all. And to prove it, I’ll come to MD and let you cook for me.
By the way, I bought Mt. Elbert seasoning so I could try the meatloaf muffins.
And Susan and I were chuckling that you doubt your ability to cook, and yet you are able to make substitutions to recipes. That is a relatively advanced cooking skill.