The soup was tastier than I thought. Ridiculously so, considering I threw together whatever I had available.
My mind wouldn't stay off steak, burgers, bacon, and other meats, so I assumed it was protein and some kind of fat my body wanted. My first thought, since I don't have any meat available except bacon (and I didn't want to sacrifice any of that in the name of a craving) I had a look through the cupboards to figure out what else was available. And there, in the little cabinet we use as a pantry, I struck gold: several cans of sorely neglected kidney beans.
After that it was just a matter of finding more things to throw in the pot. There was a can of (again, neglected) tomato soup and some of the carrots were going rubbery. Not to mention that if I left those potatoes alone much longer they'd start growing. Once the carrots and potatoes were cut up to appropriate sizes, I just dumped everything in the pressure cooker.
The spices were a little more difficult. If left to my own devices I won't absolutely starve, but David (the husband) is the true maestro of the kitchen. When I asked for help, he pointed out the Worcestershire sauce, a blend of winter seasoning, some salt, and told me that if I dig around a little in his stash of condiments I'll find concentrated chicken stock. A little bit of each went in the pot, along with some salt.
It was in that moment that I learned about the strange meaning behind the word "salt" in most recipes. If you listen to David anyway, and I definitely do. Apparently that usually means kosher salt because table salt is too dense. And if you do have to use table salt, halve the amount for that reason. Oops? It seems I've been doing cooking wrong most of my life.
All of those ingredients combined, I set the pressure cooker on high for fifteen minutes and let it do its thing. Pressure cookers weren't exactly common until late in 1940's Britain, and those were the pressure saucepan kind like Mom or even Grandma used to put on the stove. I bet that my fancy electric version would knock some WWII socks right off.
At first I could only smell tomato, a little sweet considering what all else I put in. Then the beans started mixing their scent in, turning a little cringe-worthy until the last five minutes. Then my mouth started watering.
Once the timer went off, I jumped up to turn the pressure cooker off. To my stomach's displeasure, I then let it sit for another ten minutes as was. This had a couple of good effects: it allowed the soup to keep cooking without using power, and I didn't have to listen to the shriek of the pressure releasing all at once. My hearing and nose are both a little too sensitive for my own good sometimes.
There was just enough for two bowls, one for David and one for me. At first he seemed a little apprehensive about my beginner's cooking and took his sweet time before trying it. I was no less nervous, honestly. Just knowing that I couldn't afford to throw it out if it was terrible was enough to do that. Reluctantly, I put a spoonful up to my mouth...
And it was surprisingly good. The weird texture of the beans took a little getting used to, and the whole result was sweeter than I thought, but it wasn't bad at all. If I'm being honest, it was actually fucking delicious. Of course David put enough seasoning on his to make me sneeze and my mouth burn but that's not abnormal for us. That he finished his bowl before I did mine was more than enough of a compliment.
Afterward plenty of the broth was leftover and I put it in the fridge to chill until tomorrow. Maybe some rice is is in order as well as replacing the solid bits... I do still have some carrots and potatoes, after all. But more about when I know what I'm doing.
For dessert, David tempted me with an anachronistic but so good mango bar. To my surprise though, it was way too sweet for me. I was only able to finish half of it before I had to wrap the rest up and put it back in the freezer for later. Now there's progress for me.
I've been more awake today than most days. Less tired, less ready to go back to bed at the drop of a hat, antsy with the need to move... The list goes on. It's both a delightful change and a weird one; I've never been very much of an active person and yet I was so desperate to move around today that I nearly did some push-ups. I fucking hate push-ups. Maybe time to figure out a more solid exercise program?
All in all, day 1 has been a remarkable success. Let's just hope this keeps up.
My mind wouldn't stay off steak, burgers, bacon, and other meats, so I assumed it was protein and some kind of fat my body wanted. My first thought, since I don't have any meat available except bacon (and I didn't want to sacrifice any of that in the name of a craving) I had a look through the cupboards to figure out what else was available. And there, in the little cabinet we use as a pantry, I struck gold: several cans of sorely neglected kidney beans.
After that it was just a matter of finding more things to throw in the pot. There was a can of (again, neglected) tomato soup and some of the carrots were going rubbery. Not to mention that if I left those potatoes alone much longer they'd start growing. Once the carrots and potatoes were cut up to appropriate sizes, I just dumped everything in the pressure cooker.
The spices were a little more difficult. If left to my own devices I won't absolutely starve, but David (the husband) is the true maestro of the kitchen. When I asked for help, he pointed out the Worcestershire sauce, a blend of winter seasoning, some salt, and told me that if I dig around a little in his stash of condiments I'll find concentrated chicken stock. A little bit of each went in the pot, along with some salt.
It was in that moment that I learned about the strange meaning behind the word "salt" in most recipes. If you listen to David anyway, and I definitely do. Apparently that usually means kosher salt because table salt is too dense. And if you do have to use table salt, halve the amount for that reason. Oops? It seems I've been doing cooking wrong most of my life.
All of those ingredients combined, I set the pressure cooker on high for fifteen minutes and let it do its thing. Pressure cookers weren't exactly common until late in 1940's Britain, and those were the pressure saucepan kind like Mom or even Grandma used to put on the stove. I bet that my fancy electric version would knock some WWII socks right off.
At first I could only smell tomato, a little sweet considering what all else I put in. Then the beans started mixing their scent in, turning a little cringe-worthy until the last five minutes. Then my mouth started watering.
Once the timer went off, I jumped up to turn the pressure cooker off. To my stomach's displeasure, I then let it sit for another ten minutes as was. This had a couple of good effects: it allowed the soup to keep cooking without using power, and I didn't have to listen to the shriek of the pressure releasing all at once. My hearing and nose are both a little too sensitive for my own good sometimes.
There was just enough for two bowls, one for David and one for me. At first he seemed a little apprehensive about my beginner's cooking and took his sweet time before trying it. I was no less nervous, honestly. Just knowing that I couldn't afford to throw it out if it was terrible was enough to do that. Reluctantly, I put a spoonful up to my mouth...
And it was surprisingly good. The weird texture of the beans took a little getting used to, and the whole result was sweeter than I thought, but it wasn't bad at all. If I'm being honest, it was actually fucking delicious. Of course David put enough seasoning on his to make me sneeze and my mouth burn but that's not abnormal for us. That he finished his bowl before I did mine was more than enough of a compliment.
Afterward plenty of the broth was leftover and I put it in the fridge to chill until tomorrow. Maybe some rice is is in order as well as replacing the solid bits... I do still have some carrots and potatoes, after all. But more about when I know what I'm doing.
For dessert, David tempted me with an anachronistic but so good mango bar. To my surprise though, it was way too sweet for me. I was only able to finish half of it before I had to wrap the rest up and put it back in the freezer for later. Now there's progress for me.
I've been more awake today than most days. Less tired, less ready to go back to bed at the drop of a hat, antsy with the need to move... The list goes on. It's both a delightful change and a weird one; I've never been very much of an active person and yet I was so desperate to move around today that I nearly did some push-ups. I fucking hate push-ups. Maybe time to figure out a more solid exercise program?
All in all, day 1 has been a remarkable success. Let's just hope this keeps up.
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