63. Home Cooking | Laurie Colwin
a writer in the kitchen
No one who cooks, cooks alone. Even at her most solitary, a cook in the kitchen is surrounded by generations of cooks past, the advice and menus of cooks present, the wisdom of cookbook writers.
Friends,
A little fun fact about me - I make a most excellent Greek salad. I learnt this little party trick from a very generous and wise South African lady who, for her third marriage, had chosen a very traditional Greek man and had learnt the correct way to make one. Every Tuesday night for 18 months while I lived in South Africa, Nadine and I had a wonderful ritual where I’d pop in after work, we’d cook together in her huge Johannesburg kitchen, she’d share hilarious stories of her three marriages and then we’d watch a foreign film together. SOUL FOOD!
Laurie’s book brought back such special memories of this time for me. Growing up, my family were not the kind that spent time in the kitchen or around the table together, and I’ve craved this sharing of food for most of my adult life. Home Cooking does exactly that - Laurie makes us feel as if we are right there in her kitchen with her while she prepares and shares her life and recipes.
I’ll share a few of my favourite passages here, but first let’s take a moment to appreciate the thoughtfulness of this page - British friends, no need for google, Laurie has us covered:
Laurie Colwin’s food thoughts are like phone calls from a dear friend.
— THE NEW YORK TIMES
How to Fry Chicken
As everyone knows, there is only one way to fry chicken correctly. Unfortunately, most people think their method is best, but most people are wrong. Mine is the only right way and on this subject I am almost evangelical.
There are many disagreeable things about frying chicken. No matter how careful you are, flour gets all over everything and the oil splatters far beyond the stove. It is impossible to fry chicken without burning yourself at least once. For about twenty-four hours your house smells of fried chicken. Furthermore, frying chicken is just about the most boring thing you can do. You can’t read while you do it. Music is drowned out by the constant sizzling. Finally, as you fry you are consumed with the realization that fried food is terrible for you, even if you serve it only four times a year.
Friday Night Supper
For those who have let it lapse, Friday night supper is a tradition worth reviving. It is a night when the heart of even the most assimilated Jew cries out for something more substantial than one skinless chicken breast. The traditional Friday night fare — pot roast and potato pancakes — is not something you would want to make a steady diet of, not would you be comfortable serving it to your cardiologist. But it is truly heartwarming.
Many people, of course, have less than pleasant memories of Friday night dinners during which they were offered plates of weathered roof shingles accompanied by friend shoe heels. I myself had such a dinner at the home of a college friend in 1962 and I often wonder how her mother got her pot roast to that dire combination of overcooked and rubbery at the same time. I am still digesting that meal.
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