So I don't really cook. I can bake just about anything, but in spite of the fact that I make whipped cream from scratch for my pies, my actual cooking skills are still limited to Kraft mac and cheese and heating up canned soup. In Spain however, the senora I lived with, Leo, taught me how to make two Spanish staples: Spanish tortilla (a potato omelette) and salmorejo (a creamy tomato soup-dip hybrid). The notes I made as she taught me are a furious mix of English-Spanish ("Heat the aceite for five minutos") and since the Spanish don't measure in terms of cups or tablespoons, I was forced to write my measurement estimates in terms of things like "two solid glugs of olive oil." When I returned to the States, I cooked up both recipes immediately, both to impress my family with the wonders of Spanish cuisine and to keep the skills Leo had taught me fresh. Aside from using too much aceite (olive oil) in the salmorejo, I prepared both dished decently , realized that Spanish food was an acquired taste my family didn't care for more than a few bites of and I promptly never cooked them again.
Now, ten months later, I promised my friend I would come over early to a Granada study abroad party she was hosting and help her cook the Spanish tortilla before our friends arrived. My friend has not only graduated early (last December) and used the last two months to learn actual cooking skills (her Facebook status always brags about her recent domination over such difficulties as "eggplant parmesan" or "arroz con pollo"), but she makes Spanish tortilla with enough frequency that her skills weren't anywhere near the rusty-level mine were. She graciously decided to let me actually cook the omelette, so I could re-learn under her instruction, and when she spouted off the thought that "You can never have too much salt" not once, but many, many times, I decided to bow to the wisdom of the cooking guru.
I say this to point out that we both shared equal fault in what ended up happening with our tortilla. I'm a baker. Salt will single-handedly destroy anything that is supposed to be sweet: cookies, cakes, brownies, pies, etc. To say I avoid salt with great caution would be an understatement: I don't think I even know where the salt is stored, in my house or my apartment. If my friend had not been there encouraging me to add more and more salt (without actually monitoring what my salt-inexperienced self considered "more") I would have tossed in a conservative pinch, and we would have been fine. However, her words were a pass to go crazy with a cooking-element I normally avoid and I went overboard. Handfuls upon handfuls of salt went into the heating oil, the cooking potatoes, the onions, the egg-mixture....Well, when we decided to try our finished result, which looked great, it was SO saturated with salt, I think that the water just about left our bodies with that one bite. Everyone physically winced, it was so salty. So, the lesson I learned was simple. (And do I feel a bit like Amy Adams in Julie and Julia delivering this to you? Perhaps). There is such a thing as too much salt. Proceed with caution.
I'm off to buy potatoes and eggs to make attempt # 2 on my own, sans the cup and a half of salt that likely went into my more recent effort. Wish me luck!
Now, ten months later, I promised my friend I would come over early to a Granada study abroad party she was hosting and help her cook the Spanish tortilla before our friends arrived. My friend has not only graduated early (last December) and used the last two months to learn actual cooking skills (her Facebook status always brags about her recent domination over such difficulties as "eggplant parmesan" or "arroz con pollo"), but she makes Spanish tortilla with enough frequency that her skills weren't anywhere near the rusty-level mine were. She graciously decided to let me actually cook the omelette, so I could re-learn under her instruction, and when she spouted off the thought that "You can never have too much salt" not once, but many, many times, I decided to bow to the wisdom of the cooking guru.
I say this to point out that we both shared equal fault in what ended up happening with our tortilla. I'm a baker. Salt will single-handedly destroy anything that is supposed to be sweet: cookies, cakes, brownies, pies, etc. To say I avoid salt with great caution would be an understatement: I don't think I even know where the salt is stored, in my house or my apartment. If my friend had not been there encouraging me to add more and more salt (without actually monitoring what my salt-inexperienced self considered "more") I would have tossed in a conservative pinch, and we would have been fine. However, her words were a pass to go crazy with a cooking-element I normally avoid and I went overboard. Handfuls upon handfuls of salt went into the heating oil, the cooking potatoes, the onions, the egg-mixture....Well, when we decided to try our finished result, which looked great, it was SO saturated with salt, I think that the water just about left our bodies with that one bite. Everyone physically winced, it was so salty. So, the lesson I learned was simple. (And do I feel a bit like Amy Adams in Julie and Julia delivering this to you? Perhaps). There is such a thing as too much salt. Proceed with caution.
I'm off to buy potatoes and eggs to make attempt # 2 on my own, sans the cup and a half of salt that likely went into my more recent effort. Wish me luck!
No comments:
Post a Comment