Kitchen Lessons

As I write this, my bestie Sarah's first baby is due in about five minutes. Miss Charlotte looks like she's going to be very late for her own party, but I guess it's her party and she can arrive when she wants. I'm no doctor.

Anyway, I of course was cooking up a storm this week in my kitchen so I can stock Sarah's fridge with food so that she won't have to do anything but pop a tray in the oven when it's time to eat (apparently babies relieve you of the ability to take basic care of yourself). And while I was cooking, I learned not one, not two, but THREE lessons in the kitchen, and I thought it was important to share them. I so rarely enjoy big revelations in the kitchen anymore, that when I learn this many things at once, I do a happy dance and tell everyone!

Lesson One: stuffed shells are the fool's version of lasagna.

As I was stuffing something like my 900th pasta shell and cursing the name of everyone I've ever known, a realization dawned on me. Only an idiot would make stuffed shells instead of lasagna. Preparing the ingredients takes the same amount of time either way, yet assembling the lasagna takes maybe 5 minutes as opposed to the fortnight required by the shells. Don't be like me. Make lasagna.

Lesson Two: stop trying to make a bechamel with light butter happen. It's not going to happen.

I'm apparently in some sort of a hibernation-prep cooking stage right now--leave me alone--so of course I had to make bacon macaroni. Of course. I made my noodles, grated my cheese, cooked my bacon in the oven like it's meant to be cooked, and I melted my butter in the pan for the bechamel. But when I added the flour, I was immediately rewarded with small weird flour balls that wouldn't be whisked, cooked, or otherwise coaxed into a bechamel base. Against my better judgement I poured in my milk and after several minutes of furiously whisking my milk and flour ball concoction, nothing was happening. I called my mom, and after several minutes of her reassuring me over my cooking skills, we realized the mistake: I used light butter. It works for everything else, and it never occurred to me that this would be the one thing I would actually need full fat butter for. Oh, how the mighty fell last Thursday night.

Lesson Two Continued: you can make a bechamel with mascarpone

I opened my fridge, helplessly wondering if I could build the macaroni sauce base with anything else and contemplating a late night run to the store, when I saw...a tub of mascarpone! Guys, I got super excited about that possibility. I substitute mascarpone for butter in a ton of stuff (my favorite being garlic butter for artichokes) and it has a very high fat content, so I figured I'd give it a go. Worked like a charm. I strained the flour balls back out of my milk, washed out my pan, and put a knob of mascarpone in the pan. As it was melting down I crossed my fingers and toes, then added the flour. As soon as I started whisking I knew! Perfection! I added the milk and made a beautiful bechamel and thus, a giant tub of bacon macaroni with a panko crust. I ate it straight from the pan (for stress reasons) and thus Sarah must never know it existed. Ssshhh.

Anyways, I hope you file these lessons away in your brain for one of your "oh shit" kitchen moments. And if you have any similar revelations, send em my way. I'll post recipes at a later time, like when I re-make them and take pictures instead of anger-throwing a whisk across the kitchen.