I’m an uninspired chef these days, attempting to navigate unfamiliar territory.
The problem is that I am the type of person who needs visual cues to achieve inspiration. Normally I would shop by walking every aisle, identifying the things needed or wanted as I see them. I pack for trips similarly, wandering from room to room, recognizing things that I might need. And if I don’t see them, then there is a high probability that there will be no spontaneous reminder of the need.
And similarly, I’ve always cooked that way … browsing through the cupboards and fridge, praying for visual cues and inspiration, looking forward to getting this duty over with.
But now, when I open the fridge, I am met with an unknown terrain. Certainly, I can identify the cheese, the eggs, the 4 containers of milk and the vegetables. But then, things get challenging. Almost all that remains in this packed fridge is an unrecognizable assortment of containers. And even though they are dutifully labeled and dated with strips of masking tape, I still have trouble navigating my way through, to find any relevance to my plans for meal preparation.
This is an example of some of the items in the fridge: two containers of chicken broth, bottles of pickles that do not resemble pickles, bottles of kephir grains labeled “do not throw out,” (for which there is neither worry of me throwing out, or of ever, ever, using them). There are bottles of apple cider, rhubarb vinegar, two creams, one yoghurt, tomato sauce x 2, the very dark colored “ketchup,” sausage water, and water kephir (whatever that is!). To continue, there are containers of spruce tips, separate containers of boar fat, bacon grease and butter. There are 3 buttermilk containers, all with different dates, and one with visible separation and worrisome coloring. There is one labeled “moose thickener,” which I imagine is a body-building supplement for the aspiring young moose. And it continues: there is one labeled crushed tomatoes, another called ghee, another of boar “scrunchions,” and one of “moose in veggie stock,” (who I imagine is praying for his eventual release, much like a genie in a jar, or a man on a restricted diet).
It could be just me, but this is a difficult supply list for my creative juices. So, I resort to the very recognizable and mundane vegetable and meat. Sorry, family. But I intend to make up for all this. Having recognized all the masking tape we are going through for labeling, I intend to buy shares in the company. With this new-found profit, I will have a celebratory feast when these difficult times come to an end!