On the advice of our family, friends, colleagues and instincts, we're going rogue. After one-too-many disappointing meals prepared in our slow cookers, we've tossed out the most troubling ingredient: the cookbook.
OK, at least I have. Elissa, craving structure, hasn't been able to fully divorce herself from “Slow Cooker: The Best Cookbook Ever With More Than 400 Easy-to-Make Recipes” by Dianne Phillips. We're beginning to wonder if this parallels bad dating habits; a need to stay in unfulfilling relationships that take a lot of work for too little payoff.
On the other hand, maybe we're trying too hard to find life lessons from the hollows of our slow-cooking inserts.
With no one cookbook to hold me back, I'm enjoying my newfound culinary freedom. I've loved the recipes readers such as Dixie Kraft, Christine Habicht and Peggy Rodway have given us to try. (You can read about them on our blog at blogs.ajc.com/holiday-guide) I've flirted with new cookbooks, taking some recipes out for a spin and tossing my own ingredients into the mix. My first successful creation happened last Saturday when, after scouring my pantry and seeing I had enough canned tomatoes for Y2K, I tried my hand at tomato soup.
Thankfully, a colleague had given me a Crock-Pot cookbook by Weight Watchers -- perfect timing for my growing waistline now that I'm eating a quart of food for dinner - so I used its recipe as the basis for my creation. I chopped and sauteed three onions and two teaspoons of garlic. I combined the glassy, pungent mixture with nearly 30 ounces of whole tomatoes. I stewed the ingredients for five hours on high until it was boiling, seasoning it with salt and pepper. I next ladled the mixture into a blender to puree it into a fine soup.
Then came disaster. Though I held the blender lid on with my left hand, the boiling soup exploded and splattered all over my walls and cabinetry. My first thought was for my silvery gray drywall. My second thought was that my hand was on fire. A little cold water over my appendage and a wet cloth for the red-splotched mess and I was back in business. After pouring in a half a cup of cream, the soup was regrettably bland. That's when I became a mother of invention. Garlic salt! Basil and oregano! A wee Parmesan! And then, finally, I found the perfect ingredient to give a little kick: two strong squirts of sriracha. That spicy chili taste gave it just enough zest without sending it into roasted red pepper land. I topped the soup with Parmesan cheese and croutons and settled into heaven.
Even with that success, our slow-cooking adventure has done nothing to alleviate our original issue with cooking: it's a lot of work. Elissa meditated on this reality as she recently prepared beef stew from "that book." She thought of her mother's savory beef stew as she browned the meat, placed it with the vegetables in the cooker and then poured beef broth on top. Then she realized she had skipped what could be a crucial step: coating the meat in flour before browning.
That misstep was the beginning of a life-changing realization, she said.
"Why is getting this ‘cooking' thing right, so difficult? What creature can possibly do what Katie and I are trying to do -- plan meals, cook decent food and work a full-time job day in and day out?" she wrote of this experience. "Oh wait... My mom does all of that and more. She worked full-time, had an hour commute each way and still found time to make dinner most nights of the week for my father and me."
Beef stew turned into a maturity milestone. We're not doing anything extraordinary by planning and cooking each day; we're just growing up and learning how to juggle life and appetites and figuring out when to skip steps. We also need to hug our moms next time we see them and say thanks for making it all seem (mostly) effortless all these years.
And by the way, the beef stew was delicious.
Selecting the right slow cooker
Our experience has taught us a few things about how to choose the right cooker for your lifestyle. First, are you feeding yourself or a family? Had I more sense, I wouldn't have purchased a 6.5 quart machine as I'm usually dining alone. On the other hand, Elissa's petite Rival doesn't accommodate many recipes that are designed to roast a huge hunk of meat, and our mutual friend's slow cooker for two really means it feeds just one. Also, make sure you buy a machine that comes with a timer so you don't have to worry about coming home midday to flip the cooking switch.
Meet the reporter and photographer
Katie Leslie (kleslie@ajc.com) joined The Atlanta Journal-Constitution in 2007 and has covered home and garden topics, breaking news and lifestyle stories across the state. She was inspired to embark on a slow-cooking adventure out of hunger, a need to save money and a desire to become a true Renaissance woman who can tap dance and host a dinner party. Three weeks into the project, Leslie is looking into additional freezer space and expanding her spice cabinet.
Elissa Eubanks (eeubanks@ajc.com) joined The Atlanta Journal-Constitution in 2005. Eubanks has a passion for multimedia storytelling and has photographed such memorable events as Evander Holyfield’s 2008 return to the ring, the 2009 Presidential Inauguration and the recent floods in Atlanta. Prior to the Crock-Pot project, Eubanks (like Leslie) noshed on cereal or pasta with store-bought marinara. Now she understands the power of chicken broth and meal planning.
About this series
As colleagues and best friends, it seemed natural for Eubanks and Leslie to partner in this appetizing project. To the delight of their parents, both women report eating more than usual. Through this sometimes tedious experience, they have gained a true appreciation for what their mothers endured through the years of cooking daily for their family, and thank them for their efforts.
About the Author
