Dinner for Two: A Soldier's Story

I'm generally barred from using the kitchen for anything other than making my breakfast. That's only because Freya is too tired to interfere first thing in the morning. In spite of this, I know that when the month is nearing conclusion and the cupboards are bare, and payday is 2-3 days off, I will be encouraged to cook dinner. It's really not fair.

I wouldn't mind so much, but the reasons for this tradition are completely cynical. Whereas Freya loves having a full stock cupboard, TWO freezers stuffed to the breaking point, drawers with spices labelled A-ZZZZ1, and a fridge with stratified layers of food descending by sell-by dates; I prefer to cook makeshift meals on the fly. I think it's just the survivalist in me. It's the result of too much time in the hot sun of the high desert facing the prospect of a very long hike out for supplies vs. "eating that lizard or cactus and hoping it's not poisonous." Sure, I had supplies buried, but when you're in the desert you learn the benefit of hoarding. This is why if you decide to do some camping off the beaten track in Western Colorado you might find an old duffle bag under three feet of clay loaded with bottled water, fruit cocktail, and ravioli.

As the date of this post would indicate, we have now entered the grace period when I am granted amnesty and allowed free reign over the kitchen. The ingredients at my disposal were indeed Spartan, but I can see a meal in anything. I'm not saying that Freya wouldn't have made the exact same thing, but she would have done so under different circumstances. She would have said to me, "I'm making X for dinner. I have everything I need except for 1 ingredient." We would then head to the store and proceed to purchase said ingredient as well as 40 additional ingredients not called for in the recipe, "just in case". The method to her madness is only thinly veiled as she knows that I know that she knows that I am on to her trickery. My methodology is somewhat different.

I approach everything in my life as a contingency planner. I think about the possible pitfalls and how I will compensate when they occur. e.g. The zombies are attacking:
1. Liberate a prison, it's the safest place. The prisoners would probably prefer freedom among the zombies to more time behind bars.
2. Station snipers in the guard towers. Not to waste bullets on the walking dead, but to pick off any marauders and bandits.
3. Raise crops and livestock in the courtyard for food.
4. Assign every occupant his/her own cell with enough canned food and ammunition to protect themselves (kill themselves) should they find themselves the last survivor.
5. The movies all get this wrong. Anybody not in their own cell would have to wear a mask, Hannibal Lecter style to avoid any confusion about who is and who is not infected and to avoid the all too common "Joe Schmoe just had a heart attack and now he's biting my arm" scenario.

The only thing not provided for in this contingency plan is the rogue doomsday cultist who poisons your crops and water supply while pretending to be just one of the guys.

Right, so this is how I live my life and work in my kitchen. And this is why when I needed spring onions for Tuesday night's meal I used a shallot. When I needed 8oz of prawns, I used a 1/2 tablespoon of shrimp paste. Instead of shiitake, I used the last of some mysterious, potentially hallucinogenic, potentially deadly Chinese mushrooms sent to us by a friend in Singapore. You get the point. About the only thing I had for this recipe that was required was the ground pork.

I get excited by cooking on the frontlines. I like the challenge of thinking fast. I hate planning meals and prepping the night before. I love the desperation that comes from improvisational cooking. This isn't to say that my wife's method isn't great. She studies cookbooks meticulously and selects her ingredients with the sort of discrimination usually reserved for Southern country clubs. And in spite of the assertions of a friend of mine, this is not cooking by the numbers. The belief that any literate person can cook anything out of a book is ridiculous. The art of cooking is a cumulative process. Knowing what works comes from study and trial and error.

The fact is that my style of cooking is momentarily exciting, a test of my skills and knowledge of ingredients, but it's also very safe. I'm not putting myself out on a limb, risking my neck preparing a meal that takes hours or days to make. Freya chooses recipes that challenge her and teach her skills. She makes dishes that hinge on exact ingredients and precise cooking times, where days of hard work can be destroyed by stirring too fast or too slow. I'm just a grunt, cooking in the trenches. Even so, you must admit, my ad hoc siu mai looks pretty sweet!