The Dark Art of Creative Cookery

 

by Pa Rock

Kitchen Provocateur

My father liked to cook and was fairly good at it, but as he aged his taste buds began flaming out and Dad started to "rev-up" his cooking with various spicy ingredients so that he could continue to enjoy the taste of his own cooking.   Visitors at Dad's table did not always enjoy his recipe modifications as much as he did.   Two of Dad's regular specialities were potato salad and meatloaf, both of which lent themselves well to endless experimentation and became more "revved-up" with each passing year.

But Dad's kitchen creativity predated the loss of his taste buds,  I clearly remember one morning when my sister and I were in elementary school and Dad fixed our breakfast.  The grilled cheese sandwiches waiting on the table were not standard breakfast fare in our household, but they would have sufficed if Dad had not chosen to experiment that particular morning.  As we bit into the breakfast sandwiches, we discovered not only the golden layer of melted cheese which we had been expecting, but also a melted grape layer, too.  If Velveeta and grape jelly each made tasty sandwiches, our Dad figured that together they would be even better.  And they probably did make a warm and tasty breakfast sandwich, though my sister and I declined to try them.   Dad wound up eating them himself, and he said they were very delicious!

My favorite imaginary friend, an old coot  by the name of Rusty Pails, also enjoys cooking, and like my late father, Rusty's creations are sometimes "out there."   Rusty's favorite speciality is a sandwich that he calls the "Rustwich," and he and his friends often consume several at their more festive social gatherings.  Rusty describes his "Rustwich" as:

"A brazen blend of fried baloney and onions sandwiched between thick slices of grilled rye and served up with a good dose of horseradish mustard."

Rusty notes that to make the "supreme" version of a "Rustwich," all one has to do is add a layer of sauerkraut.  Another imaginary good friend of mine, Esther Pearl, says that a Rustwich is harder to swallow than one of Shadetree Mike's fish tales.  Esther also says that a Rustwich is the only food she knows of that tastes exactly like its name!

So with all of that background, it should not surprise anyone that I also occasionally dabble in the dark art of creative cookery.   My endeavors, however, are far more subdued that the fiery creations that my father served up to an unsuspecting world, and instead of pursuing spicy surprises, I seek out new forms of comfort foods.

Yesterday my son served up a very nice platter of French toast for breakfast.  I knew that Nick would be working that evening and I would be on my own for supper, so when two slices of French toast remained from breakfast, I secreted them away for supper.  But as suppertime approached I realized that two slices of French toast would not be enough to satisfy my hinger pangs -  and after a few minutes of careful thought, I came up with a plan.

First I put two slices of American cheese between the French toast leftovers and set the partially-cooked sandwich aside.  Then I beat two eggs in a small bowl and set that aside,  After that I brought out the handiest gadget in my kitchen - a small "flip" skillet.   I poured a layer of the egg sauce in the bottom portion of the skillet, placed the cheese sandwich on that, and then poured the remaining egg sauce over the top of the sandwich.  Finally, I closed that skillet and began to slowly fry the sandwich-in-an-omelet at a fairly low temperature, flipping it only a couple of times while it cooked.  The meal was completed with a nice glass of cold milk.

My evening meal was good, and comforting, though not great.  I am left wondering if a tablespoon of grape jelly might have made it a classic!

Be afraid, Emeril - be very afraid!