Playing With Food has a nationwide fan club, a.k.a., MY FAMILY. The only way to disavow one’s membership is to die or insult me. Membership has remained constant.

I rely on this club for feedback. I can always count on my fans mentioning at least one aspect they like out of every column. They’re not always complimentary, though. They won’t say it’s good if it’s not. And, if they don’t understand something or disagree with it, I hear about it.

My sister Robin called me recently. “I like Alfredo sauce,” she announced defensively. “I agree with you on one point, though, it does look bland, regardless of what you mix with it.”

I have a memory of Alfredo sauce I’ve been consigned to eat which reminds me that if something looks bland, it doesn’t necessarily taste bland. What, after all, is more robust than aged parmesan? Regardless, my brain is hot-wired to issue my tongue an injunction if white sauce is served, “Expect no flavor.”

Everyone has food quirks. White Sauces/Gravies are one of my sub-quirks, filed under Food Without Color. Nothing can lead me further astray than the color of food. It’s a mixed blessing. If I hadn’t had this unjustifiable aversion to Alfredo sauce I wouldn’t have wondered if Alfredo sauce mix could be used in other ways.

“Something else,” Robin said. “In that stuffed pepper recipe you drain the beans. I like bean juice.”

No problem. Incorporate it into the liquid you use to cook the rice. Do this with any juice. If the recipe doesn’t call for added liquid, save it, or, use it anyway. Worst case scenario: you end up with soup instead of, say, stir-fry.

“By the way,” she continued, “same recipe. I looked up tablespoon equivalencies and 8 Tbl is the same as ¹/₂ cup. How come you didn’t write it that way?”

The dressing was to be split between 8 filled pepper halves, so I incorporated the division into my recipe. When I make it I don’t bother to measure. I just open the bottle and dowse the rice mixture to my liking.

There are three reasons why people don’t cook:

1. “All that time wasted over something that is consumed in 20 minutes or less,” as my mother says;
2. food is just as good (or better) eaten raw;
3. the Measurement Malady.

Of these, the Measurement Malady is probably the most common and the least legitimate. The only ingredients I ever measure exactly are chemically reactive ingredients (i.e., baking powder, yeast, etc.). Even these elements are not critical if you have what my maternal great-grandmother (who taught cooking) called a “measuring eye”. I often fool around with baking powder and soda, which cause a soapy taste if used in the abundance for which recipes often call. My favorite scone recipe, in fact, had a full teaspoon more baking powder than necessary.

Non-cooks often believe the warning that if you don’t measure exactly, your dish won’t “turn out.” Of all the reasons for failure, the least likely is measurement. It’s more likely that the timing is off or a mistake substitution is made, like the afternoon my youngest sister baked a batch of brownies, accidentally switching baking soda for granulated sugar. When she realized her mistake we stared forlornly at the brownies, mentally preparing for the funeral. Just then, an admiring swain dropped by and ate the whole batch in one sitting without complaint. The lesson learned was: Love is not only blind, it has no taste buds and an acid-free digestive tract.

Cooking can be a high art, but it isn’t a mystery. I have only three rules of thumb:

1. if I don’t like it, for whatever reason, I don’t use it;
2. if I like it a lot I use more;
3. rules are made to be broken.

Text, Recipes & Graphics ©1999 by Gail Rae Hudson

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