Clueless in the Kitchen
Mara Kurtz
Illustration by Mara Kurtz
Word Count 706
Some people are born with a feel for cooking. They instinctively know just how much cardamom or coriander to throw into a chicken curry and have the courage to substitute one ingredient for another to transform a dull recipe into a gourmet meal.
That is not me.
When I first walked into a kitchen, it felt like entering a foreign country. Having grown up in a 1950s home with a full-time housekeeper who cooked breakfast, lunch, and dinner, the extent of my culinary skills ranged from making Bumble Bee tuna fish sandwiches on Wonder Bread to baking Duncan Hines Brownies without the nuts.
As a newly married Army wife living in a remote town outside of Munich, Germany, the first dinner I cooked consisted of Muller's Elbow Macaroni with baked potatoes and canned peas.
With no friends and nothing to do, I was determined to transform myself into a capable cook.
After asking my mother to send me a copy of The Joy of Cooking, I sat in the cold kitchen of our attic apartment every morning agonizing over which new dish to make for dinner. Then I drove our old Volkswagen “bug” to the nearby PX to shop for ingredients.
Unsure about preparing even the simplest dish, I followed directions meticulously. But I had a rice pilaf disaster that destroyed the bottom of my best pot.
Then I inadvertently added twice the amount of required pepper to a vegetable casserole burning my husband’s lips.
The following day I carefully read the fractions on my green plastic measuring spoons and learned that the lowercase “t” represented teaspoon, the capital “T” meant Tablespoon.
I was also vigilant about not mixing up the one-half and one-third measuring cups which looked exactly alike to me.
Despite my desire for perfection, the result of my efforts was uneven at best. The Chicken a la King tasted pretty good, but Peter said my spaghetti al olio was rarely al dente. Any dish requiring the use of a wire whisk was especially problematic. Whipped cream never stiffened. After twenty minutes of twirling, my hand felt paralyzed.
It was a relief when Sandy, another soldier’s wife, arrived from Florida. Having an American friend was comforting, especially one who turned out to be an experienced cook.
One day shortly after we met, I asked her how often she cleaned her oven. She said, “I haven’t cleaned it yet. I’m only here a few weeks. Why, how often do you clean yours?” I replied, “ I have to clean mine every time I use it.” Incredulous, she burst out laughing and said, “are you crazy? What’s wrong with your oven?”
“It’s the roast beef,” I explained. Peter really loves my roast beef, so I make it almost every night. But the fat splatters and sticks to the top and sides of the oven. If I don’t clean it before cooking each time it burns. There was so much smoke last week my landlord with the gold tooth came up to see if there was a fire.”
After telling her I was afraid that the poison fumes from Easy Off Cleaner were going to kill me, said she’d come over to watch.
When she arrived, I had everything ready and showed her the gravy-stained recipe in my “Joy of Cooking.”
“Well, she said, nothing could be easier than this. All you have to do is follow the directions.”
While the oven preheated, I rubbed the beef with salt and pepper and a garlic clove. Then I slipped on my blue striped mitts, opened the oven door, and pulled out the middle rack.
I carefully placed the roast in the center of the row of hot metal bars.
As I started to push the rack back in, Sandy screamed, “Stop, what are you doing? Where’s the pan?”
I said, “What do you mean the pan? What pan? I don’t have a pan.”
She replied, “You have to use a pan in the oven.”
I started to laugh and picked up the cookbook. Running my finger along the last line of the recipe, I read aloud: “place the roast beef on a rack in the middle of a preheated oven.”
Looking at Sandy I smiled, “I don’t see anything in this recipe about a pan.”
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Mara is a graphic designer, photographer and illustrator and founder of Mara Kurtz Studio.
Her work has been published in numerous publications including Metropolis, New York Times Magazine, New York Magazine, Conde Nast Traveler, Travel and Leisure, and The Wall Street Journal.