The ups and downs of male cooking

Like many males, I took female cooking for granted and never myself got much beyond the boil-or-fry mentality.

Some readers may recall a column I did on cooking. Like many males, I took female cooking for granted and never myself got much beyond the boil-or-fry mentality. Which was fine for a forester, working in the woods. Oh, I did attempt the odd batch of bread, and once or twice baked beans. Otherwise I depended on the excellent cookery of my spouse.

Then, as we both got older, with miscellaneous ailments and LTC (long-term-care) looming, I found myself doing most of the grocery shopping. Which I discovered was mostly meal-planning—in other words, cooking.

So I added a bit more, mostly soups, stews, and stir-fries, plus the odd potato salad; roughly a third of the meals. And she, having cooked literally thousands of meals for our sizable family and relatives, seldom complained — except that I bought too much meat.

Pretty soon I started saving recipes for things like no-knead bread, chocolate chip cookies, gingerbread, cabbage rolls, muffins, turnip casserole. Checking my cook book just now, I even find recipes for hummus, muesli (what's that?), tabuleh (ditto) and Iranian duck!

But the great thing about stews and soups is that you can whomp up big batches, freeze most of it, then coast on them for weeks. Which I did, and still do, now that LTC has claimed my spouse. The down side is that it gets boring (I've eaten stew three times this week). Plus you get lazy, lose confidence, avoid trying anything new. Or, if you do, you've forgotten to buy the right ingredients.

If you're lucky enough to still have good neighbours and good friends, now and then they'll quietly drop off something delicious--rolls hot from the oven, a slice of cake--that breaks the monotony.

Speaking of friends, last month I got an email from a longtime widower friend now living in B.C. In the email he described taking me sailing on the Pacific coast decades ago. How, over lunch, I'd remarked that inshore Newfoundland fishers, instead of bringing food, would catch a cod and make chowder in a saucepan over a little coal-fired stove using tinned Carnation milk. Which he later tried, and thanked me for.

Which got me thinking about some beyond-its-best milk in our fridge, plus an even older frozen strip of haddock in the freezer... For my mother's “fat-back-pork” I could substitute bacon. With a half-dozen spuds from our basement cold room, I had the makings of supper.

But then came a LTC phone call, followed by a visit from a long-ago pastor, whom I recognized but whose name escaped me just then. My chowder did get made in time for a late supper, and though rather dry, it did taste good. However, something was missing—but what? Then, fetching apple sauce from the fridge for dessert, it came to me: I'd forgotten the milk!