Thanks giving

Last time, I wrote about how much I was looking forward to Thanksgiving.  As one of my favorite days of the year, it lived up to my expectations and was a really great time.  Everyone was there, I got to do some cooking, we had a great meal, and best of all, I got to spend a lot of time with my family.  I love my family a lot, and can honestly say that I enjoyed every minute I got to spend with them.  Overall, I only have two regrets from the weekend.

The first is that four days was nowhere near long enough, and I don’t feel like I had enough time to really hang out with everybody before it was time to go.  There’s not much I can do about that, except to look forward to Christmas being less than four weeks away.  The other one, though, came at Thanksgiving dinner.  Before we started, my Mom said grace and added some very nice words about what she was thankful for and what we all hoped for in the future.  She asked if anyone had anything to add, and though I don’t want to speak for everyone, I feel that we all thought she put things so well that we just couldn’t add to it.

So no one said anything formally, but we all kind of agreed with what Mom had said, then we enjoyed a great dinner.  However, now that it’s been a few days and I had time to think about it, I would like to try to reflect on what I feel thankful for as well.  Though I know this doesn’t begin to cover all there is to say, I put together a few sentences on each of you.  Here goes.

Mom – Thank you for being such a great mother.  You are supportive and nurturing, and always encourage me to be my best.  Whenever I need inspiration, advice or direction, you are the one I turn to.  Like the song from our dance at my wedding says, you raise me up.  I love you.

Dad – Thank you for being such a great father.  You are practical and wise, and have the bizarre sense of humor that I share.  Whenever I need some advice or some help figuring something out, I can turn to you.  I love you.

Jeremy – Thank you for being such a great brother.  You are fun and exuberant, and I can always count on an adventure when I’m with you.  Whenever I feel like I need energy or passion for something, I look to you.  I love you.

Brian – Thank you for being such a great brother.  You are caring and thoughtful, and can always find fun in whatever we do together.  Whenever I need to quit stressing; to just relax and enjoy life, you are there.  I love you.

Karin – Thank you for being such a great sister.  You are unique and confident, and have insight and vigor beyond your years.  Whenever I need to open my mind or look at something in a new way, I have you.  I love you.

I know that’s not much, but I just wanted to express how much I care for each of you and how thankful I am that you are my family.  It’s not just on Thanksgiving that I feel glad to have each and every one of you in my family, but now seemed like a very good time to say so.  I am very thankful that we were able to all get together for the holiday, and I look forward to seeing you all in a few weeks.

And one last thing: since I only did a few sentences on each of you, there’s no way that what I wrote begins to capture the complex essence of any of you.  Many of the great qualities I mentioned are shared by the entirety of my family, and I intended everything I wrote as a compliment.  If it doesn’t come off that way, remember I’m not that great a writer, so there could only be a shortage of writing ability, not of love that I have for you all.

It was a great Thanksgiving, and I know that I have much to be thankful for.  Ostensibly, the holiday is all about a big feast; eating and drinking and having a good time.  To me, though, it is one of the most magical days of the year – a time of love and family.  For those of us fortunate enough to share those things, Thanksgiving Day has to be one of the best days of the year.  Happy Holidays to all!

From G's to Chefs - Feeling Thankful

You know what I love about cooking?  Well, there are a lot of things I love about it, some of which I’ve mentioned before, but here’s a big one.  Anyone who cooks, from a lowly engineer/blogger/wannabe cook to the most respected and admired star chef, can tell you exactly how they came to fall in love with cooking (full disclosure: I just made that up, but you’d have to think it’s true).  It can be rather vague; for instance the author of my latest cookbook simply points to growing up in a home where her mother cooked all the time, and being around the pleasant aromas and tastes during her childhood.  For others, it can be incredibly specific, and they can point to one key memory that led them down the path to where they are today.  Others like me.

As a quick aside, I should note that I don’t feel that this phenomenon is innate to cooking.  My wife loves to knit and crochet, and I have heard some of her fond memories of crocheting that led to her rekindled interest in that area.  Since knitters are the largest demographic of my readership, I wouldn’t want them to think that I felt in any way superior with my love for cooking, since I’m sure they share these feelings for their chosen art.  But contrast either of those activities with my day job; if someone asked me how I fell in love with engineering, I’d probably strangle them (j/k, and though it pains me to admit it, I do have a story for that question).

Today’s story, appropriately enough, centers on Thanksgiving.  Thanksgiving Day is one of my two favorite days of the year (the other being Christmas Eve, but that’s for another time), and I have many fond memories of Thanksgivings over the years.  Early on, it was just about playing and eating – mild years meant we could play outside while Mom and Dad cooked, or else we’d just keep ourselves busy upstairs until dinner was served.  A few years later, I remember munching on the pre-dinner snacks while watching football with my Dad.  But the real significant events didn’t start to take place until my early teen years.

By this time, I had begun to realize that simply keeping out of the way wasn’t really helping enough.  So I asked my Mom if there was anything I could do to help out.  It started small: setting out a bowl of ripe olives for people to nibble on before dinner.  The next time I asked, I was given the responsibility of making the Stove Top stuffing (boil water, add bread crumbs, and stir).  I did a little bit more each time, and before you knew it, there I was assisting my Mom and Dad with almost every step of the dinner.  I wasn’t really in charge of anything, but I was there ready to stir this, chop that, or hold this for a moment, would you?  I became the Thanksgiving Day sous chef.

With six members of the family, there was always a lot of food, so I’m sure the help was appreciated, but in a relatively small kitchen, things tended to get crowded.  And for a Thanksgiving dinner, everything has to be ready at the same time.  So that meant we’d cook little by little over the course of the day, gaining momentum and dishes until we hit critical mass, sometime around 4:00.  It was like someone suddenly hit the fast-forward button and all of a sudden we had to untent-the-turkey-drain-the-potatoes-grab-the-green-bean-casserole-quick-open-the-cranberry-sauce-check-the-turkey-temperature-fluff-up-the-stuffing-oh-my-gosh-we-forgot-to-pull-out-the-sweet-potatoes-ok-they-look-fine-mash-the-potatoes-stir-the-gravy-or-it’s-going-to-stick-ok-let’s-get-this-turkey-on-the-platter-someone-pour-the-wine-and-let’s-eat!

Somehow, every year, six hours of careful planning and staging culminated in a whirlwind 15 minutes of chaos that resulted in rushing here and there, frantically pulling things together into a phenomenal and always perfectly executed meal.  I know my Mom hates this part of the holidays and especially Thanksgiving, but here’s the thing.  I LOVED it.  The energy in the air, the feeling of excitement and anxiety as we flitted from one pot to another, stirring, slicing, serving, multiple timers blaring as we went, was the most fun part of the day.  I can close my eyes and picture our little kitchen, nowhere near big enough for three people moving amongst one another, all working on different parts of the final meal, and I can’t help but smile.

I never paid much attention to it at the time, but I absolutely loved the Thanksgiving panic every year.  Granted, I don’t get to experience that same feeling all that often when I cook at home, but there are occasions.  Sometimes I decide it would be nice to have dinner waiting for Stacia when she gets home, and start out deliberately so things will be done at just the right moment.  Yet somehow in the last 15 minutes I end up with three different pans going, stirring a sauce while I try to dish up the main course, and it’s almost like a mini-Thanksgiving rush.  I don’t think anyone who knows me would call me an adrenaline junkie, but the final act in cooking a meal sure does it for me.

To be fully honest, I don’t know what year it was when I first helped in the chaos of the Thanksgiving kitchen, so I can’t put a specific date on the event that made me fall in love with cooking.  But I have the scene memorized precisely from years of repeating, every time just a little different, but with the same energy and excitement.  That’s when I knew I loved cooking, and any time I feel it again, it’s like seeing an old friend after time apart.  Thanksgiving is this Thursday, and I’m planning to see that friend once more.  I can’t wait.

Real Patrons of the Arts

A few minutes after 6:30 last night, Stacia and I were sitting in a bright blue row of seats, ten rows back from the stage, breathlessly waiting for the show to start. Casually, out walks Anthony Rapp, clad in his trademark maroon sweater and striped scarf, to open the musical Rent. Within a few more minutes, the first big number has begun, and the bass on the speakers is pounding as Anthony Rapp and Adam Pascal, now Mark and Roger, kick off three hours of energy and raw emotion with the titular song. I sit back to enjoy, as this is the show we’ve been waiting to see. But it was a long road to get here, in more ways than one.

The most immediate wrinkle was the ticket fiasco. We’d planned to get to the Civic Center early to get situated, and had found a parking spot around 5:40. Just as we were about to get out of the car, I realized that our tickets were sitting on the kitchen table of our West Des Moines condo, 13 miles away. After a few obscenities, we threw the car into drive and high-tailed it back home. Stacia ran in, got the tickets, we zoomed back downtown, and made it to the Civic Center no later than 6:10. Let’s just say it was a good thing there were no speed traps on I-235 last night.

But the real story starts some time earlier, in my sophomore year at Iowa State. Stacia and I had essentially just met, living in the same dorm, and weren’t even dating at the time. I’d never even seen a play that I wasn’t acting in, much less a musical. Then an interesting series of events led to us going to see Cabaret together. Our affable RA wanted to plan an event for the floor to do together, and was perusing the schedule for the Season at Stephens Auditorium, and was leaning toward some upcoming philharmonic orchestra. Then serendipity stepped in.

Stacia happened to be nearby and was asked what she thought of the idea. Now, while I had no previous experience with musicals, Stacia had acted/sung in them, and had been to Iowa City to see a touring production of Rent and was a huge fan. Not so much a fan of philharmonic orchestras. So she quickly glanced at the schedule, found Cabaret and suggested that as an alternative. The invitation went out to the entire floor, and although I had no particular penchant for the show itself, I did have some interest in going to whatever Stacia was going to. So I signed up.

We did the whole getting dressed up thing, and headed out to Stephens to see the show. I can’t really claim that it was a magical moment where I discovered that I loved musical theater (Cabaret still isn’t my favorite, but that had more to do with a lame attempt to look cool than with the actual show), I did sort of enjoy it. Our seats weren’t spectacular, so I can’t recall too many of the details of the show, but it did leave me open to the prospect of seeing musicals in the future.

Over the course of the next several years, Stacia and I dated, got engaged, and married, and Stacia’s interest in musicals became ours. We saw (in approximately chronological order) Cabaret, A Streetcar Named Desire, Rent, Fiddler on the Roof, Aida, Rent, Chicago, The Color Purple, Sweeney Todd and The Civil War. And, within the past five weeks, we added Wicked and Rent to that list. That sounds like a lot, but keep in mind that Stacia and I have been together in one way or another for six years, and that tickets were half price when we were students. Things really got crazy with Wicked and Rent in back-to-back months, but neither one was skip-able, so we decided just to go for it.

In the seven years since the first show we saw together, naturally lots of things have changed, but it seems my appreciation for these events has just grown more. Naturally I have overcome the “cool dude” act where I’m just going to the show to make Stacia happy, and I am now willing to give more praise than “it wasn’t too bad – you know, for a musical.” In a good musical, there is such visceral, raw emotion being broadcast, that I think it takes a true cynic to not feel touched. Granted, I tear up watching Rudy, so I’m not exactly the frostiest guy out there, but I contend that you can’t honestly watch Rent dry-eyed the whole way through.

After a whirlwind month of shows, I think we’ll take some time off before our next one, especially since the last two have been so great. Wicked and Rent (featuring the original Mark and Roger) are my absolute top two shows; at home I’ll play “La Vie Boheme” or “Dancing through Life” for fun energy while doing things like washing dishes, and I blast “Defying Gravity” or “One Song Glory” for inspiration if I’m feeling downtrodden. And while I can’t imagine that the next one we go to will be up to the standards of those two shows, I’m willing to give it a chance, whatever it might be. After all, it took me trying something new to find out that I like musicals, so I had better keep an open mind for the next evening out. That, and remember to bring the tickets.

From G's to Chefs - Pancheros?

The latest incarnation in my evolving efforts to talk about cooking.

So, last night was a Panchero’s night. There was a trio of evil forces at work, forcing us to dine out: 1) It was Monday. Who gets home from work on Monday, especially after the fantastic weekend we had, and has enough energy to cook? And I say that as someone who really enjoys cooking! 2) Stacia had to run some errands after work and got home a little bit late. Ordinarily we cook together, and if we only get started by 6:00, we’re not going to eat until 7:00 or so. 3) I forgot to thaw things out to cook anything anyway. I had the foresight to make an entire meal plan for the week, but with all the meat still sitting in the freezer, we couldn’t do a thing with it. So it was off to Panchero’s.

Panchero’s, for those who are not from the central Iowa area, is an analogue to Chipotle or Qdoba, but quite a bit tastier in my opinion. It’s your typical burrito-as-big-as-your-head place, a “fast-casual” joint where for about $15 we both end up satiated. It’s one of the usual standbys for dining out options, along with such other fine-dining establishments as Sonic, Tasty Tacos, and Little Caesar’s. In fact, I’d estimate almost two-thirds of our dining out trips are spent in this same “cheap out” category. I’ll readily admit that most of these places are inherently unhealthy, but we go out about once a week, so it’s nothing too serious.

This all leads to the question: as someone who enjoys cooking and likes food, why do you go out to these places and not the fanciest, hoity-toitiest restaurants in the city? Isn’t that a bit incongruous? Actually, I’d argue just the opposite. As my knowledge has increased and my skills have improved, a lot of the typical restaurant fare just isn’t impressive to me. Many times as I’ve sat at a moderately nice restaurant looking at my food, I’ve thought to myself, “I could make this. And for a lot less than $18 a plate (or whatever it was).” Which is simultaneously awesome and just a little bit sad.

First, the kinda sad part. Like almost every person in America, I like to go out to eat. It’s just a fun thing to do, going somewhere different, having people wait on you, and getting to try something new. But as I’ve continued to work at becoming a better cook, the usual fare doesn’t seem quite as spiffy as I one thought it was. Places that were once old favorites are seen in a new light, and don’t seem worth going back to. Couple that with my interest in budgeting and personal finance, and you get a stingy guy who’s unimpressed with his food. Well, you might describe me that way. I wouldn’t exactly, but it gets harder and harder to justify the price tag at the end of the evening.

Now, before you start to think “poor Greg – he can’t go out to eat anymore,” let me show you the other side of the coin: the awesome side. This means that I have the ability to create food that I feel is just as good as the stuff that other people pay professionals to make. That’s a powerful feeling, and not only in the “Greg is really full of himself” sense (although there is that, too). Thinking about cooking, it really is quite amazing. I can take a pile of raw ingredients and through nothing more than my own effort and some tools, I can transform it into something new and delicious. In a primal sense, there really is no skill more vital and extraordinary.

And remember, I started this whole blog because I felt I needed an outlet to be creative. In the kitchen, I truly feel like I am creating in a way I’ve never really experienced before. I was never any good at art, can’t sing or act, and let’s face it: my writing is pretty pedestrian. But if you give me a pile of meat, vegetables and spices, I can make something not only edible, but tasty as well. That is why I cook.

Of course I have a long way to go, and am only beginning the voyage from recipe-follower to originator. It’s like being one step above paint-by-numbers, and looking at the Louvre. I know that nothing I make can hang there yet; Hell, if I tried to copy one of those paintings, it wouldn’t look much better than something a parent hangs on the refrigerator. But I can feel that I’m heading in the right direction. I put down the paint-by-number book, and I’m tentatively starting to sketch. It will take me a while, but I’m looking forward to the journey.

We got a bit tangent-y there at the end, so this one won’t wrap up as smoothly as I usually strive for. Suffice it to say I really enjoyed my burrito as a fast alternative to cooking on a Monday night. And, lest you get the wrong idea, we do go out somewhere nice about once a month for the fun of the whole thing and the chance to see some new ideas in person. For example, we had a great anniversary dinner last month at Dos Rios, which actually gave me a great idea of more authentic Mexican food, should I attempt to undertake that in the future. And somewhere down the line, I bet I will.

TCM Files - Young Frankenstein

I love old movies. Luckily for me there is Turner Classic Movies (TCM), which shows a ton of these great films, so I generally record one a week and try to find time to watch it before the next week begins. This may become a semi-regular feature describing my thoughts on the previous week’s selection.

Week 1 – Young Frankenstein (1974)

This is a really odd choice to lead off with, since it’s not really a classic in the Casablanca or Citizen Kane sense. However, I have been regularly watching old movies for over a year, and just now started the corresponding blog entries. So this is what we ended up with – luck of the draw. Young Frankenstein made the list because it is ranked on the American Film Institute’s (AFI) lists of 100 comedies (#13) and songs (#89).

I’ll start by saying I’m not generally a fan of Mel Brooks movies. Everyone in my dorm seemed to think that Blazing Saddles was the funniest movie ever, so I laughed along but never really got into it. I tend to think Spaceballs is overrated, but it has been a while since I’ve seen it. And there are two movies of his that I started and opted not to finish: High Anxiety, which I just thought was a little blah, and the Producers, which is in the running for the worst movies I’ve seen (maybe it gets better later on, but I doubt it). On the flip side, I do like Gene Wilder, though that’s almost solely due to his playing Willy Wonka in the film of the same name. So I started the movie with rather low expectations overall.

And those expectations were almost entirely met. I didn’t find the movie awful, but at the same time I didn’t much like it. It followed the usual Brooks format – lots and lots of buildup for one sight gag or pun-ny quip. Those would generally make me chuckle, but there certainly weren’t any moments where I laughed aloud. I was expecting the “Walk this way” line (which is famously from this film) to be funny, and was disappointed. I thought the same gag was much better done in After the Thin Man, a film 38 years older than Young Frankenstein. Igor was funny at times, having some of the best lines, but there weren’t enough to really keep me interested. And the two most amusing lines of dialogue (“Eye-gor…” and “Werewolf…”) happened within the first half hour or so of the movie, after which things continued downhill.

Oh, and lastly, this movie made AFI’s list of best movie songs for the well-known “Puttin’ on the Ritz” scene. That scene pretty well captured my thoughts on the movie as a whole – the first time the punchline occurred, I chuckled a little to myself, but then it kept going on and I got bored with the whole thing. The plot moved fairly well, but you more or less know the storyline going in – you watch movies like this for the jokes, and those didn’t impress me. Overall, I didn’t hate this movie, but I certainly disliked more than I liked.

2 stars out of 5.