Curmudgeon's Picoler Et Les Haricots

Several of the people I know are gourmet cooks. I have always held them in highest esteem. In an attempt to relate, I decided to learn how to cook by making dinner. You find out a lot about your self when you cook, like; it's really hard to talk like Julia Childs for two hours. The only thing bad about the evening, was that we had to take the dog to the Vet. The vet said it must have gotten in the neighbors trash and eaten something bad. We had to have Poppy's stomach pumped.

I was a bachelor half my life. I moved out of my parents house when I was sixteen and didn't get married until I was thirty something. My mom was a health nut, so we lived mostly off of vitamins. I figure I still have enough vitamin C in my system to last me till I'm about one hundred eighty years old. I ate yogurt before they knew if it was legal or not. She some how made her own and it was not sold in stores. We ate liver till I turned purple because Adele Davis (A pioneer health nut) said it had tons of vitamin B and A. Mom used to make smoothies out of brewers yeast, desiccated liver, raw eggs and wheat germ that would gag a maggot. The things it did to my digestive system didn't help my popularity in school, if you know what I mean. I am still rebelling. I don't know what it is with women, but my wife now takes about twenty eight vitamins and supplements a day. I have to admit she is a lot healthier than I am.

As a bachelor my idea of shopping was Cheese Whiz, peanut butter, Wonder bread, ketchup, mayonnaise, Ramen soup, beer, crackers and beer. A bottle of Tabasco sauce lasted me two weeks If I bought hot dogs or pork rinds. Come to think of it, that's still my idea of shopping.

When I was single, I ate breakfast every day at a greasy spoon called The Pantry. I had coffee and huevos rancheros swimming in grease with hash browns every single morning. I sat in the same place and had the same waitress. No one ever quit there, they just grew old and greasy. I knew all the customers and they knew me. We were family. We even drew names at Christmas. The waitress didn't even bring me a menu or take my order. They just brought out the breakfast plate. I liked it because I got a lot, and it was my one hot meal of the day. The parsley gave me lots of roughage, and I went to my Granny's on St. Patrick's day for corned beef, cabbage and spotted dog (soda bread with raisins in it). That's plenty of greens for anyone. I weighed one forty five, and had to stand up twice to cast a shadow. I'm now two fifty and can sell shade.

Something was missing in my life so I decided to go to church and see if God knew what this hole in my soul was. I met the most perfect girl in the world there, and I love her today more than I did then. She washed her silverware and dishes every single meal, hung curtains and she had a vacuum. A couple of months into our marriage I made a heinous mistake. I told her I was tired of tacos. She never cooked again till our son was born ten years later.

It didn't really bother me much, as it was nothing new. She ate weird things though, she bought potato chips, donuts, cookies, candy, ice cream and cake. Tons of sugar started passing through my system; or not. I wasn't allowed beer any more, and I didn't live in my little studio apartment next to the Pantry so in that respect, I wasn't completely satisfied and I ate more sugary stuff. She was a little slip of a thing and could eat anything and gain no weight what so ever. My body just couldn't handle sweets. I grew to the point where, if I had been two inches taller I would have been perfectly round. Anyway, to make a long story short, I never cooked anything except hotdogs and maybe toast till recently.

I have not been working, and she has been toiling away forty hours or more a week, so recently I decided I would try cooking and help her out some, while impressing you readers.

She was not happy with my Campbell's beans and ketchup recipe after the first week, so week two I added wieners. Still no go. I then discovered Hamburger Helper. After I figured out that you have to cook that for a while or it's too crunchy, they stopped glaring at me for a couple days. I thought you just sprinkled it over the meat.

One day Hon left me a recipe. It was difficult to read and harder to follow the steps, but I was full of confidence. It called for something new... ingredients. I needed to gather up a chuck roast, potatoes, carrots, a couple cans of soup, and spices. I cut up the chuck roast into about eight slices. It was pretty bloody but the band aids stopped that. One of the  band aids disappeared somewhere, but I had quit bleeding, so no big deal. I kind of scratched up the Formica on the counter when I cut it up. I then had to peel and chop up potatoes. It sounded like a hassle, so I called Hon at work to ask if I could use frozen french fries. She said it wasn't the same. I wasn't sure what a potato peeler looked like or where it was, so I called her again. I found it and went to work. It took me a few minutes to figure out how it worked. After peeling a couple of potatoes I discovered  it was easier to peel them before you chopped them up. I was an absolute genius at peeling potatoes. I had to call her back to find out where the carrot peeler was. She patiently explained that it was the same utensil, and told me not to call her back. Man, that peeler is versatile. So far so good. I then had to brown the meat in a frying pan with oil. I kind of scorched it. The kitchen needed to be repainted anyway. Here's a tip: don't throw water on a grease fire. Who would have thought those pans warp like that? I went to the store and got another roast and a fire extinguisher. This time I lowered the flame, set a timer and set Baywatch to record when it went off. I made a mental memo to myself to get a TV in the kitchen. Next, I had to pour a can of cream of onion soup and a can of cream of mushroom soup over it. The pan wasn't big enough so I had to switch to a bigger pan. I kind of scratched up the brown coating on the smaller pan. Now for the spices. I threw in something green, small and shaped like a little bitty tube. It said chives on the bottle. I'd never heard of it. It looked a lot like the little flakes that came off the bottom of the first Teflon pan. It was all dried up, so I threw in a handful of the stuff. I cooked it a while and then tossed in the potatoes and carrots. It called for horseradish. I like horseradish so I put in the whole bottle. About forty five minutes later I tasted it. It needed something. My cooking instincts instantly told me what was missing. Ketchup! We only had one bottle but it seemed like enough.

It was time for the acid test! Hon and my son came home. They started sniffing the air right away, so I knew I was on the right track. I guess I forgot to cook a side dish, so they ordered a pizza to go with it. I went to go wash my hands and when I came back it was already half gone! It was a hit! 

 
The only thing bad about the evening, was that we had to take the dog to the Vet. The vet said it must have gotten in the neighbors trash and eaten something bad. We had to have Poppy's stomach pumped.

Hon and my son started craving hamburger helper and  my beanie weeny recipe after that and asked for them for the rest of the month but requested that I quit putting Tabasco sauce in them. That was OK with me as it was easier to cook. (if you can find the can opener.)  

I'm thinking of opening a restaurant; Curmudgeon's Picoler Et Les Haricots (booze and beans)

Look out Culinary Smack Down! (A friendly internet cooking contest.)

Next week, my famous baked peanut butter sandwiches with graham crackers, grapefruit and pepperoni.

You are what you eat. I'm fast, cheap and easy.