Moose in the Kitchen

As deciphered by someone who understands neither simple division nor how to operate a camera.

Hi, I’m completely bad ass

That’s right, I pick herbs out of my herb garden. Well, herb “garden” may be a bit optimistic. It’s more like an herb “concrete bed under the concrete stairs.” The word “my” is also a bit misleading. I had nothing to do with the purchasing, planting or maintenance of these herbs. Plus, it would be much more bad ass if I had any idea what these plants are.

I’m pretty sure that big leafy thing is less “herb” and more “dangerous species of shrub, possibly a close relative of that giant man-eating plant in Little Shop of Horrors.”

This is not an herb either

It’s such a pathetic house plant that I had to share. I shouldn’t even dignify it with the term “house plant.” This is a house stick.

THIS, my friends, is an herb

See that brown stuff under the green leaves? That’s DIRT. Dirt that symbolizes badassery. No plastic-wrapped wuss mint from the supermarket for my cous cous, no sir.

Ingredients are essential to any recipe

Ask Nigella. She’ll tell you the same thing. Then she’ll tell you that you need to read the instruction manual on your camera because your photography really sucks.

See that open box of cous cous? Using an open box of cous cous is not a good idea. Because there may only be about half a cup in there. Serves me right for calling myself bad ass – and for putting on pajamas before cooking. Such action guarantees that you will have to put a jacket on over your ratty plaid flannel pants and walk to the corner store.

Speaking of which, what kind of corner store has grits and hominy, but no cous cous? Really. I almost bought a large bag of marshmallows instead before firmly reminding myself that marshmallows are not a good stand-in for cous cous. No, not even if you buy the mini ones. Nor are plain marshmallows shoved down the gullet by the handful an appropriate dinner substitute.

This is the lemon. The lemon that was brutally scarred by my selfish need for its tender, tender skin.

Nothing smells better than zesting a lemon. Nothing looks more like the victim of a small toothy rodent than a lemon that’s been zested. Realize that I’ve already forgotten to cut the ingredients in half. One must be able to shrug off minor mistakes when cooking. Besides, it’s a salad. How accurate do salads really need to be? THAT’S WHAT I THOUGHT.

Realize at this critical juncture that there’s no such thing as a half tablespoon. Is that what a teaspoon is? Decide I’m thinking too hard about what’s really just a salad and dump in champagne vinegar in random amounts.

Pine nuts: only slightly scorched

I’m a believer in efficiency. If the recipe calls for pine nuts cooked over low to medium flame for 8 minutes, it follows that turning up the burner to high will get the pine nuts cooked in three minutes. Right?

Downfall of non-wussy herbs (that’s a scientific classification): discovered

Here is where I learn that the underside of all my mint is covered in dirt. Realize that a quick dash under the tap is not enough when dealing with plants that have recently been removed from actual soil. As I’m tearing up the peppermint (the recipe says mint but, dude, close enough), I run across a few holey leaves. Ponder what caused the holes. Some wasting plant disease? Insects? Do I really want to eat a bug’s leftovers?

The answer is yes. As long as “bug leftovers” does not mean “mummified insect”, stolen from the web of a tarantula who will be seriously pissed because I just stole her snack, I am fine with bug leftovers. If I really thought my body was a temple, I wouldn’t be shoving so many Reese’s cups into it, now would I?

Scorched pine nuts, dirty leaves and lots of oil make for one tasty salad. The cous cous would like to register its discomfort with being termed “just a salad.” I callously ignore the demands of self-righteous cous cous by shoving it into my mouth.

~~~

Couscous Salad with Cherry Tomatoes, Lemon, and Pine Nuts

Totally stolen from Everyday Greens

1 cup instant couscous
1 teaspoon minced lemon zest
1 cup water
2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
1 tablespoon Champagne vinegar
3 tablespoons olive oil
3/4 teaspoon salt
Pinch of pepper
3 tablespoons pine nuts, toasted
1 scallion, both white and green parts, thinly sliced on the diagonal
1 cup ripe, little cherry tomatoes, cut in half
2 tablespoons chopped flat-leaf parsley
2 tablespoons chopped fresh mint

Pour the couscous grains into a small baking dish. Set the lemon zest aside to toss with the salad later. Combine the water, lemon juice, vinegar, olive oil, salt and pepper in a small saucepan. Bring to a boil, pour over the couscous, and give it a quick stir. Cover the dish and set aside for 20 minutes.

When the couscous is ready, gently fluff it with a fork to separate the grains. Transfer to a serving bowl and toss with the reserved lemon zest and the remaining ingredients.

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