When I play my guitar in front of people I love to watch their reactions. The adults have rarely seen anyone play classical music on a guitar and the kids have rarely seen anyone play music live. There is a look of astonishment as they try to follow my fingers around the fretboard. It can make all of the lonely hours of practice seem worthwhile.
That’s pretty much the same look I have when I watch cooking and baking shows. People throwing together ingredients I’ve never heard of to cook something that only vaguely looks familiar. Or baking things using long memorized recipes and having an intimate understanding of what a “pinch” of something really is. And when they’re done they have something that looks beautiful and very tasty. And I would wager serious money that the studio smells amazing.
Since I’ve (mostly) retired I’ve taken over kitchen duties in my house. My wife is a terrific cook but she doesn’t enjoy it at all. For her it’s a never-ending chore. I don’t mind cooking dinner but I’m not very good at it. So I get frustrated with myself for being so clumsy and not understanding the process very well. On TV they say stuff like, “This *name your spice* pairs very well with *name your meat*” and I’m thinking, “What the heck are they talking about?” Whenever I watch Martha Stewart she sounds, at times, like she’s speaking in tongues. But I carry on bolstered by the knowledge that: 1. The more I do this the better I will get and 2. In case of a total disaster Dominoes Pizza is only a phone call away. (Disclaimer: we actually had to make that call once)
But I’ve secretly wanted to try baking for the last few years. But other than a sheet or two of chocolate chip cookies, I’ve never attempted it. I was afraid I would totally screw it up so I wasn’t willing to try. That’s always the way, isn’t it? We’re so afraid of looking bad that we don’t even try. And it seems that the older I get the worse I am.
But at home where I have privacy, married to a woman who is so used to me being an idiot that she’s not phased by it anymore, I finally felt free enough to take a whack at it. On Saturday I decided to make a loaf of beer bread. I’ve often thought about making bread and I’ve heard this was pretty simple. So I made the dough, which was simple enough, let it rest (that was even simpler), then threw it into a loaf pan and into the oven. A little while later out popped a loaf of pretty tasty bread. Wahoo! Success!
On Sunday, bolstered by this success, I decided to take a crack at making pumpkin pie. We had a ready-made pie crust in the fridge but I tried to unroll it and it just fell apart. And like Humpty Dumpty I couldn’t put it back together again. (It never occurred to me to ask all the King’s horses.) So then I decided to make a crust from scratch. I’ve seen them do it on TV and it didn’t look too tricky. Just flour, water, and some other stuff.
Just like when someone decides to try playing guitar for the first time and discovering that it’s not as easy as it looks, when my fantasy collided with my reality I was very rudely awakened. But by now I was also committed. It took me a lot longer than I thought it would, but I blame that on the unrealistic expectations delivered by the TV shows. Still I kept on until I had something that resembled a pie…. if you squinted while you looked at it. And into the oven it went. Then I looked at the mess I had made in the kitchen. It looked like the aftermath of a culinary battle between drunk monkeys and the neighborhood raccoons. So while the pie baked I cleaned….and cleaned some more. I think flour is the kitchen equivalent of glitter. Once you open the package it gets everywhere.
I posted a picture of the pie when it came out of the oven. Someone commented that it looked “rustic” and another said it looked like “it was made with love”. These people should be in the U.S. diplomatic corps. However, when we each had a slice later that evening (did I mention that my wife is a very brave person?) It tasted much better than it looked.
My daughter-in-law commented, “I guess you CAN teach an old dog new tricks”. The next time I see her I will remind her that I am not a dog. I guess the moral of the story is that none of us are. And that excuse for not trying something new is pretty lame. So if there is something you would like to learn then do it! If there is something that you would like to do (assuming it’s legal and moral) get after it. My pie looked ugly but tasted okay. But even if it had tasted awful it wouldn’t have been as bad as the bitterness of regret.