I'm frequently stressed out. That's how I roll. So what I should be saying is that I'm more stressed out than usual.
What do I do when I'm stressed? I cook. Don't judge.
I've been cooking for two days. And I might not be able to stop. What's stressing me out? This:
- My father's sick, and it's not good;
- My cousin's daughter just got dumped by her boyfriend after eight years. Also not good. Girls, listen to me, I know what I'm talking about: if he's still a "boyfriend" after eight years, he's a dirtball. Set a time limit, and stick to it;
- I started a new job, and I'm trying to publish a book. Neither of these activities is particularly hard, they just make me a little nervosa, you know what I mean?
- Potato salad;
- Refried beans;
- Cranberry sauce;
- Linguine marinara;
- Nectarine/raspberry pie.
The potato salad was an experiment. I just boiled some peeled and cut up yellow potatoes and tossed them with a chopped red bell pepper, some Greek yogurt, dill, parsley, salt and pepper. Meh. So I'm going to split the leftovers in two and add brown mustard to one, avocado and lemon juice to the other. I'll let you know.
The linguine with marinara was perfect. It always is. Marinara recipe here.
The big surprise was the nectarine/raspberry pie. It never really made it to a pie, because the stuff Anthony likes is the filling, and I prefer to save my calories for alcohol, so it stopped at being a compote. I patched together a couple of different recipes:
Take four nectarines and cut them into pieces. Don't bother to peel them, and I don't have to tell you to throw away the pits because you're not a gagootz, right? Put a sauce pan on the stove and put in a half a cup of sugar, two tablespoons of flour and a pinch of salt. Stir all of this together and then add 3 tablespoons of water. Stir until it's a liquid. Add the nectarines to the saucepan. Stir again. Then turn on the heat to medium-high and bring to a boil, stirring constantly. When it boils, cook and stir for two minutes and then turn off the heat. Rinse and add a package of raspberries. Done. Serve alone, with yogurt, or with ice cream. So easy. I prefer to save my patience for holidays.
My kitchen is the perfect place to hide out. Why? Because:
- It's quiet. My neighbor Ruthie complains that her husband doesn't talk to her. Lucky girl. Mine never shuts up;
- It's small. I like womb-like places. Only one person can fit in my kitchen. Two at the most. Anthony's claustrophobic. What's not to love?
- There's wine in it.