You've Come a Long Way, Baby

My husband is learning to cook and much to my amazement, he isn't half bad.  The fact that he has discovered the crock pot helps.  Cooking is a breeze when all you have to do is throw a bunch of stuff in one pot, turn it on, and walk away.  Still, he deserves credit for making progress. When he was single, his entire repetoire pretty much consisted entirely of oatmeal, minute rice with canned tuna, and for variety, he'd make a Lean Cuisines.   He could  also microwave a potato.  Garlic was  "ethnic."

The refrigerator of his bachelor days sported a bottle of French's mustard, a six-pack of Guinness, and lefover pizza.  Frankly, that refrigerator was the only way I knew he wasn't gay (not that there's anything wrong with that).  In my defense, he dressed really well, and collected antiques.  What can I say?  My prior boyfriend had thumb-tacked a Patriots bath towel to his window for a curtain, so the fact that my husband had insulated drapes that matched a Queen Anne wing-back armchair gave me pause.  I think I let out an audible sigh of relief when I opened that refrigerator door.   The poor guy didn't know how to make a sandwich, but thank the good Lord, he was straight!!

For the past 16 years, we've had a fairly egalitarian marriage:  I do all the cooking and he does everything else.  Unfortunately, with that crock pot he has recently caught on that cooking isn't as difficult as he feared.  He has discovered the joy of cranking up the tunes while you stir, chop, and saute--particularly if it means that someone else has to do the dishes, the laundry, the yard work,  pay the bills, and take the kids to soccer.  Damn.  I should take a hammer to that crock pot.  I've had it GOOD.

Slow Cooked Lamb & Beans
Courtesy of Wegman's  (Actually, I'm inferring such courtesy by the fact that they publish a quarterly recipe magazine ).

1.  Dust 4 lamb shanks with flour, salt, and pepper.  Wegman's features a pre-made "pan searing flour" that's really quite handy.  ( Oh come on, if I'm going to plagiarize Wegman's whole-cloth, the least I can do is make a few cheap plugs for some of their merchandise).

2.  Sear the lamb in a sauce pan coated with about 2 Tbsp of olive oil, heated over medium-high heat.  Brown on all sides--about 8-10 minutes.  Transfer the lamb to a crock pot.

3.  Add 8 oz of Wegman's cleaned and cut mirepoix to the pan--OR--save yourself about $4.00 and chop into a small dice: 2 carrots, 2 celery stalks, and one small onion.  ( The pre-cut mirepoix is outrageously expensive; I do have some ethical standards.  Of course, new cooks like my husband get intimidated when they see an ingredient in French, and Wegman's knows how to exploit such naivety.  Cunning buggers, those Wegman's folks.)  Saute until the vegetables are tender.

4.  Add one bay leaf and one cup of dry white wine.  Reduce until the mixture is a little thick.

6.  Add 6 Tbsp of flour.

7.  Transfer mixture to the crock pot with the lamb.  Add:  the zest of one lemon, the juice of one lemon, 3 cans (15.5 oz each) of cannelli beans, 1 28 oz can of roma tomatoes with basil, and 32 oz of chicken stock. 

8.  Cook on HIGH for 5-6 hours, or on LOW for 8-10 hours.  (A dish that only requires one temperature setting appeals to novice cooks.)

9.  Stir in 1 tsp rosemary and 2 tsp thyme just before serving.  Salt and pepper to taste.  Ooh and aah over your husband's efforts.  Tell the little lad how fetching he looks barefoot and in the kitchen.

White Balsamic Fruit Salad

Perhaps I am a freak of nature, but I love to go grocery shopping.   Of course, I get to shop in a grocery store like no other, a place called Wegman's.  Calling Wegman's a grocery store is like calling Mt. Rushmore a sculpture in South Dakota.  Wegman's is a shrine to food--a veritable Disney World for grown-ups who like to cook.  The first time I walked in I just stood there and took in the place--not knowing whether I should cry or giggle.   The produce section features about 10 different kinds of apples, an entire wall devoted to mushrooms, and pretty much everything comes organic, mass produced, or locally grown.   There's an entire section of the store that sells nothing but cheese, and another that just sells tea.   I felt like a lost alien that finally got back home to the Mother Ship.

I'm not so stupid to realize that Wegman's is clearly the result of years of marketing studies and focus groups.  The mad demographers at their corporate headquarters have clued in completely to what the average middle-aged suburban mom wants from her "shopping experience."  They pipe in the lost artists of the 90's like Basia and the Cranberries.  You find yourself meandering through the aisles listening to the tunes of your youth oblivious to the fact that your funky ergodynamic shopping cart is being filled with items you had no intention of buying.  What's up with that?
 
It's also no accident that this month's Vanity Fair, the cover of which is a shirtless Rob Lowe, is oh-so-strategically placed throughout the store, so that when his bedroom eyes stop you dead in your tracks you'll be right next to the display of expensive prepared sauces and dressings.  It's kind of frightening and Orwellian, but it works.  These guys are good.  So.  Thanks to my friends at Wegman's and Rob Lowe's biceps (or is it his pecs?), I now have on hand a bottle of a white balsamic vinegrette.  I wasn't exactly sure what to do with it, but because Wegman's knows what I'm thinking before I do, they've come up with the following:

White Balsamic Fruit Salad

1.  Peel and cut into bite-sized chunks one honey dew melon.

2.  Toss in a couple of handfuls of blueberries, 1/2 cup fresh cut mint leaves, and 1 cup crumbled feta.

3.  Generously dress with Wegman's white balsamic vinegrette, which as best as I can approximate if you are among the unfortunate masses without ready access to Wegman's:  1 part white balsamic vinegar, 2 parts canola oil, 1 clove minced garlic, 1 tsp dried parsley, salt and pepper to taste.

Not as tasty as Rob Lowe, but better for your marriage

4.   Serve yourself a bowl.  It's simultaneously sweet and savory, and you might even be able to pass it off as dessert.  Then hunker down with fantasies of Rob Lowe or at least the May 2011 issue of Vanity Fair.