Country living is usually serene, at least in magazines. But serenity fled our country kitchen last week.
Consider the pancake problem: The local country store doesn't carry a good brand of pancake syrup. I shouldn't complain, but He-Who-Must-Be-Fed likes certain elements of his life to stay the same. He asks for same recipe, same brand, same method of preparation to appear on his plate -- always. Worse, he insists that companies have been changing their products (new and improved) without asking him.
The weather, the economy, politics and the first lady's wardrobe might be parts of Aristotle's whirl of things, but HWMBF wants the comfort of sameness here in our winter cabin (also our summer, fall and spring cabin).
Last week he announced that his favorite brand of pancake mix had changed its contents. He wants thinner pancakes with fat blueberries. Fine, we are getting fresh, fat blueberries from Chile (imports another complaint). But as any student of Pancakes 101 knows, if you want thinner pancakes, you add water or milk. So I did. A little more, still a little more, but I could not find a happy medium. These cakes went from "too puffy, too dry" to thin, pseudo-cardboard disks supporting exploded purple fruit and dying my fingernails for 24 hours.
HWMBF is not the only complainer. I have a fishy problem.
I was hungry for cod. Whitefish are bountiful here, fresh most of the year, freezers packed during the winter, since we live next to a commercial fishery, but I yearned for ocean fish, for cod. Further, I had a package of cod in the freezer. A package -- a colorful, opaque freezer bag holding an unknown number of individually wrapped cod filets.
Upon opening, there were three pieces that looked OK. Three. Dear readers, how many of you have three family members at the table? Three is such a magic number. The Holy Trinity, three little animals -- pigs and bears in nursery tales -- and wishes are a stingy three. But how many families have three people sitting down to dinner nowadays? Does your mother-in-law like fish? Do you count your dog as family? Most young children don't like fish -- except fish sticks -- and older kids are never home for dinner.
I hate guessing about possible fish quantities in opaque fish bags. Three. Should I serve HWMBF two portions? Thaw out only two, saving one to split for a very modest meal? I opted to cook all three filets. I rinsed the fish, dried the filets with paper towels and put the pieces on a paper plate. On a second plate I made my version of a perfect fish breading: Equal quantities of white or yellow cornmeal, bread crumbs and all-purpose flour.
When first experimenting with breading, I had added a couple shakes of Old Bay Seasoning. Oh, so good! So then I added a bit more, and the next time, still a little more and, as expected, that amount of seasoning was over the top. Ruined fish. I solved this measurement problem by giving the filets a couple shakes of Old Bay before breading them. You can control the seasoning to taste easily that way.
To continue relating a fishy happenstance: I prepared my frying agents, a mixture of equal amounts of Crisco (not butter flavored) and canola oil -- amounts depending on how much fish you are frying -- and about a tablespoon of butter for extravagance. Then I fried the fish. After frying the filets the usual couple of minutes, the flesh turned opaque and white, but not firm. I called in HWMBF, the critic. "Cook them a little longer." I did.
Not only did the filets resist firming up, but they softened further. I was aghast; they were melting!
(The sight of the fish liquefying reminded me of a college prank my brother played on his fraternity's cook.
He substituted a mayonnaise concoction for pancake batter. The poor cook shrieked with horror when the pancakes disappeared before her eyes as she ladled the "batter" into the pan.)
To end this fish story, we ate a vegetarian meal with a French roll that night, forgoing the liquid fish. The fish sat there, listlessly on the plate like cod Jell-O. I could run my thumb across it, smearing it, as easily as I could a smear a bit of ketchup.
Can anyone guess what happened to this cod? Had it been thawed and refrozen? Was it rotten fish? I've got short ribs in the crock pot just now. Serenity has returned.
Tuo or Turned Cornmeal
(A very easy recipe for children to try under supervision and a good side dish for fish or beef)
3 c. cold water
Pinch of salt
11/4 c. yellow cornmeal
1 T. butter
1 t. red pepper flakes
Place 2 c. water and the salt in a medium-size saucepan and bring to a boil over medium heat. Meanwhile, mix the cornmeal with the remaining 1 c. water into a paste. Slowly pour the paste into the boiling water, stirring constantly. Lower the heat and cook the "tuo," stirring constantly, for 10 minutes, or until the mixture is a thick mush that pulls away from the side of the pan. Serve with butter and a sprinkling of red pepper flakes.
-- The Africa Cookbook, Jessica B. Harris
Sally Ketchum is a northern Michigan journalist who concentrates on food writing. She can be reached at ketchum1985@gmail.com. Her book, "Bread Garden," is available at Amazon.com and Horizon Books.
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