Servin’ Up Some Stress Relief (Part 2)

So….where were we?

It’s been over a week since my cooking venture. Part of it was sheer procrastination, but quite honestly a substantial portion was me trying to find words. It was a pretty deeply personal experience for me. One I’m fairly certain was realized, but not to the realm I’m about to relay.

I was nervous as all get out.
I’d not seen MeMe that day (Which was likely a factor, guilt/stress manifesting as anxiety), I was taking on a larger menu than I ever had (timing is still a skill I’m working to master), and of course, the “Foreign Kitchen” aspect. (I’m a gal of habits. I’m slow to warm up, throw me in somewhere new…it takes me a bit to find my bearings.) I think I could’ve been shaking when first setting things out. My mind had flipped into trying to figure out what I needed to what order.

The Menu
Parmesan filled Crescent Rolls
Garlicky Green Beans with Pine Nuts
Pecan Crusted Chicken with Mustard Sauce
and Chocolate Pots (Of Course)

There were just three of us. Mike, Carrie, and Myself. It would turn out to be an entertaining, and somewhat surprising balance.
I was cooking at Mike’s place–taking over the kitchen may be a better term–because I did.
I made the quick decision to hand out dessert first. It’s become my signature, my little black dress, so why not hand over something that says ‘It’s ok…you’re going to have good food” Besides, handing over food takes focus away from my prep—and onto what’s being consumed.
I finally settled in when I was able to turn on my music. (I’m an all senses cook, gotta have music or conversation) However I do believe the sudden was unexpected. (Although Sinatra isn’t Three 6 Mafia, so hopefully it was charming and not unsettling)

Both Carrie & Mike worked themselves into the experience.
Carrie is my helper. She knows if she stays in close enough proximity to me, I will eventually turn and say ‘Taste this’ or “Does this need more ___” She happily obliges. Occasionally holding a plate or spoon, and snacks in the process.
Mike became my sous chef. (like I said, it was his kitchen, so he was instrumental in working the appliances and handing over what I needed) He was a busy body, weaving in and out, cleaning, checking to make sure things were all good. Oddly, and luckily for him, he was never once in the way. I’m not used to anyone else in the kitchen, but that night, it was reassuring and calming.
There were a few hiccups in the evening…

The rolls didn’t come out of the can right….I ended up having a few oddly shaped globuals of bread and cheese.

The chicken breasts had difficulty. Could’ve been the burners, could’ve been that they were MASSIVE, but outside cooked first….inside was not done on one.
I didn’t plate things at the temperature I’d have liked..things cooled, rested too much. Also, apparently when I plate a sauce my hips mimic the ‘swoosh’ on the plate. (A move I subconciously did…and I’m fairly certain will be watched for, and poked fun at in the future-I’ll just say it’s part of the presentation)

While I mulled over ‘mistakes’ they were quickly amended.

The chicken went into the microwave, the rolls were eaten just the same.
It’s not the best thing I’ve brought out of a kitchen.
But the evening could go up there as one of the most satisfying dining experiences in recent memory.


About Bec

I'm a gal who believes "Food is the Most Primitive form of Comfort" Have plenty of dishes to serve up, but one thing's for sure, I'm always
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