A Personal Chef for a Day
Patch and I rarely celebrate commercial holidays with each other. That means no gift-giving, no mushy cards and no acknowledgement of the day (because we forget). But this year, Patch wanted to cook me a meal on Valentine’s day. He normally makes a lot of gourmet meals at home (he puts my personal recipes to shame, but then it’s not that hard) but it’s usually what he feels like making. I think cooking for me on Monday is more of a treat for him than me. 😉
Patch is a great cook and he loves to cook ethnic cuisine. He reads up on a lot preparation methods and understands cooking in theory. I always tell him that if his current career doesn’t work out, he can always go to culinary school. He would be an excellent hobby chef but we live in a dump and I’m sure that would somehow cloud judgement on his food! I like to make simple meals out of everyday ingredients while he loves making things from scratch, searching all over Vancouver to find his ingredients. I’m Nigella and he’s Ramsay. He used to render his own pork fat to use in his cooking. After a few months of cooking in pure pork fat, his doctor put him on Lipitor. That didn’t stop him from cooking what he loves, he just adds flax seed to control the cholesterol. LOL!
I want to find something that he normally doesn’t eat… like seafood. I get to pick anything from his collection of recipe books and I’ve narrowed it down to 4. If he has the French Laundry book, I would probably pick everything from that book.
So what should I pick? Here are my guidelines:
- no heavy pasta as they waste tummy real estate.
- some sort of shellfish
- update: no steak and any part of lamb since he makes it often, so I put Lobel’s Prime Cuts back on the bookshelf.
If you ask me what my favourite foods are, I can’t say something specific like chicken or a dish name. A word to describe what I like to eat is ‘Raw‘. I like my steak still moo-ing, my fish still flapping and my octopus tentacles still fighting in my throat, well, you get the idea. My dream buffet is a farm. I salivate when I’m at a petting zoo. Baby animals! But please don’t tell my son that though.