“Julie, you’ve been chopped!” If you watch a popular TV show on the Food Network, you might be familiar with this sentence. After professional chefs examine the recipes created by the handful of contestants, one amateur chef is asked to leave.
Every time our wedding anniversary arrives in May, I think about the date we selected. Not only was it the day I walked through the graduation ceremony for my doctorate degree, it also was the opening of fishing season.RELATED CONTENT
“Have you tried any new restaurants lately?” a friend at work frequently asks. Usually I have an experience to share because my family enjoys eating out about once a week.
“Mom, what is it called when two things go together really well?” my 15-year-old daughter asked. “Like fleas on a dog?” my 10-year-old offered with a giggle. “No, I was talking about food,” my older daughter said as she rolled her eyes at her little sister.
“The microwave is on fire!” one of my students exclaimed. I quickly looked at the sparking spectacle in the back of the room. Several students were staring at the oven. I was expecting a raging inferno. I ran back and turned off the oven.
This will be a different sort of column because it is the first one entirely written in a prone state from my “sick nest” on my couch at home. I still can’t sit or stand upright without tipping over.
“Heat oil in a large frying pan over medium heat. Add mustard seeds, cover and cook until they pop, one minute.” Now that I read the instructions outside of my kitchen, the directions certainly are clear about covering the pan.RELATED CONTENT
“We have reached a cruising altitude of 35,000 feet. Sit back and enjoy the flight,” the pilot announced. En route to the East Coast, I settled in to read a magazine for the next 2½ hours. Although I have never been able to sleep on planes, I appreciate getting to places quickly.
Just a few days ago, I was hoping my vehicle wouldn’t slide off the road as I crept along an icy highway during one of North Dakota’s mini-blizzards. However, on the day I wrote this article, I noticed areas of my lawn devoid of snow when I left my house.
I recall an interesting conversation I had with my son and his buddy when I offered them freshly baked cookies. Both boys were 8 years old at the time. I placed some warm chocolate chip cookies on a plate and poured each of them a glass of ice cold milk.
“I hadn’t heard of ‘hot dish’ until I moved here! We called it casserole,” one of the college students remarked.
Boil. Drain. Serve. Even after a long day, most of us can manage the cooking directions for pasta.
“If I don’t get a glass of water, will I survive until morning?” I asked myself sleepily. Despite being incredibly thirsty, I took my chances. Besides, I was too tired to crawl out of a warm bed at 2:30 a.m.RELATED CONTENT