I went to the supermarket over the weekend to gather supplies. I only know how to make lasagna with ricotta cheese in the middle, and mozarella cheese on top. In the dairy aisle, I was 0 for 2 on cheese. I left Checkers and headed for the more upscale Pick-n-Pay. Still nothing. There was feta cheese, and all manner of processed spreads, and lots and lots of cheddar.
I changed the plan. Since the only time I have ever been expected to cook on a regular basis was when I lived in Italy ten years ago, my slim cooking repertoire tilts heavily toward things Italian. At home, I do not cook. I don't like to cook, and I don't like to clean up the mess cooking makes. Also, I love cereal. And restaurants. So things work out fine for me. But I can cook, and what I can cook is Italian. So standing there in the dairy section at the Plumstead Pick-n-Pay, I conjured up my best Italian standby: fresh pasta with sauce from scratch. They had beautiful fresh pasta, and also fresh herbs. I picked up ground beef for the sauce, lots and lots of tomatoes, sliced fresh mushrooms, onions, and garlic. Add to that a loaf of French bread, salad fixings, and a pretty cake, and Pick-n-Pay came through with everything we needed.
First order of business in the kitchen this afternoon was to chop onions and garlic and get the sauce going. I set the pot with the garlic on the saddest gas-stove flame you have ever seen. I would light it, it would stay on weakly for a minute or so, and then it would go out. Again and again. I thought this was an issue with South African stoves. I had no idea how I was ever going to sautée this garlic, much less boil an entire stockpot of water. Just then Klaas - the Afrikaner who lives in the room across from mine - came through the kitchen, and I asked him what I was doing wrong. He fiddled with the knobs for a little while, then he said, "The gas must be out." He went outside. I was baffled that Klaas didn't seem to care at all about my crisis in the kitchen. Then I looked out the window and saw that he meant that the gas was literally out; he was moving a small tank that said "Handigas." He announced that he and Thembelani would go and get the gas tank refilled, which they did in very short order.
Klaas and Thembelani take the gas tank to get refilled, with Gogo supervising the project.
When Thembelani and Klaas returned and hooked up the new gas tank, dinner finally got underway.
Gogo supervises me and my pot of boiling water. We are the epitome of "a watched pot never boils." It took more than thirty minutes for this huge pot of water to reach a rolling boil.
As I was cooking, Pearl arrived home from school. I had never seen her in her school uniform, and she let me take this picture before it was in complete disarray (see the dance party). Pearl took the camera and continued documenting the cooking process.
Garlic bread the American way - lots of butter, plus salt and "crushed" garlic that you can shake out of a glass jar. I added some fresh oregano leaves because they were so pretty.
Thembelani had the day off today, so he was able to join us for dinner. He manages a restaurant, so he's almost never here for dinner. It's so much fun to have him around, and he brings out the goofiest side of Pearl.
Garlic bread is completely hilarious.
Pearl and I and the pretty cake from Pick-n-Pay.
Gogo feigns being a poor, hungry child who is only hungry for pretty cake.
Finally, the water is boiling. This is fresh tagliatelle, and it cooks in about two minutes. We had dinner right on time (about 5:15, so Gogo can be finished in time for "The Bold and the Beautiful" at 6), and there was exactly enough for everyone to have plenty. Everyone said it was good, and everyone took seconds, so I think it went over pretty well. We had a fun time together, no doubt. Gogo's "adopted" daughter Alicia is in town for a few days from somewhere in the north. That's her in the dark t-shirt. Here are some more scenes from our feast:
No comments:
Post a Comment