What We Eat When We Eat Alone - Deborah Madison [47]
The reason Pete does most of the cooking is “because my wife works harder than I do and, like a typical man, I was looking for ways to show her I loved her.” (Should all men be so typical!)
Even though he normally does all the cooking, the week of solitary dining had held some surprises for Pete. “I noticed that I got a lot more pleasure out of cooking for myself because I only had myself to think about for the first time in ages. I’ve been married thirty-seven years, and my wife’s tastes are different than mine, so I know that to a certain degree cooking is about compromise. Suddenly, it was all about me! Cooking for myself was a pleasure.
“One night I had lamb chops—just rubbed them with salt and pepper and set them aside. I had time to make a mesquite fire. I absolutely love starting fires and tending them. It was as if I had my own little campfire in the backyard. I grilled up some zucchini, a little asparagus, some red onions with olive oil on them, and Spike. I’m addicted to Spike, like the spice hunters in Dune. It’s probably something Gaylord Hauser put in it, I don’t know, but I’m an addict!” Pete’s thoughts trail off into the land of Spike, then return.
“Usually when I cook something simple, like boiled red potatoes,” he says, “I make a few pounds of them because they’re good for leftovers. But this time I made only three little potatoes and steamed them for myself. It was a ritual to choose three perfect potatoes and there were no leftovers because I was focused on making just enough for my meal. I really don’t like leftovers, except for something that’s naturally better the next day, like a curry or a stew. For the most part I’d rather have it alive and cooking.”
Another thing that happened to Pete was that he noted the house was quiet. “I heard the sounds of my spoon tapping the edge of the bowl, the sound of water boiling. I enjoyed that a great deal. I plant milkweed every year for the Monarch butterflies, and I stood there and watched them feeding. Normally there’d be talk. There’d be friends—we entertain a lot—or my wife and I talk while we’re cooking. The quiet was nice. It was good to eat alone.”
Fried Potatoes with Yogurt Sauce
We made Aglaia’s eat-alone dish and loved it. But then, who wouldn’t go for a dish of fried potatoes dipped in a tangy, mustardy yogurt sauce? Being an obliging cook, Aglaia says that you don’t have to use as much oil as she does, that it needn’t be all olive oil, and that you can slice your potatoes thicker if you like. Here’s the recipe, in Aglaia’s words.
POTATOES, AS MANY AS YOU WANT TO EAT IN A SITTING, ANY KIND
OLIVE OIL OR SUNFLOWER SEED OIL
1⁄2 CUP YOGURT, PREFERABLY FULL-FAT SHEEP’S MILK OR COW’S MILK
2 TABLESPOONS CRUMBLED FETA CHEESE, GREEK, OF COURSE
2 TO 3 TEASPOONS DIJON MUSTARD, ENOUGH FOR AN UNATTRACTIVE YELLOW SHADE
PLENTY OF PEPPER OR RED PEPPER FLAKES
The Potatoes: “I halve my potatoes lengthwise, then slice them slightly thinner than 1⁄8 inch. Fry them in 2 inches of olive oil or half olive oil and half sunflower oil, or less. I don’t like to let them get too golden, and I let only about half of them get crunchy. I drain them on three layers of paper towels.”
The Sauce: “The so-called Greek yogurt you get is not the best kind for this. Basically very few of these thick yogurts are made with the traditional culture. I use regular cow or preferably sheep or goat’s milk yogurt—the sourness compensates for the sweet-and-oily potatoes. Combine the yogurt, feta, mustard, and quite a bit of ground pepper or Aleppo pepper flakes. I once added some lemon zest, which you may or may not like. Help yourself to a few potatoes, take some sauce on the side, and dip each bunch of forked potatoes in the sauce and eat them.”
Kate’s Stolen Moment Johnny Cakes
Being a native Rhode Islander, Kate knows that