Friday, September 28, 2007

Ina, Fabulous Ina

How I love you
I love your warm smile
Your sparkling eyes
I love your laugh
And your deft spotlessly clean hands
I even love your bad perm husband Jeffrey
Your recipes look divine
So easy to make
So french in style
You can cook
And bake
Like so few of us can

Why did you never have kids Ina?
Were you too busy camping in France?
Were you too busy with your nuclear energy advisor position during the Ford and Carter administrations?
Were you too busy teaching yourself how to be an amazing chef?
I will be your kid Ina
Make me a coconut cupcake
Make me a potato pancake
Make me some brisket Ina
My soul to cook like Ina!

This is my ode to Ina Garten, whom I revere as perhaps the most fabulous chef/celebrity ever. Forget Rachael, Giada, Nigella and all the others. How could they compare?

Yesterday I made Croque Monsieur. 1) I made a roux. 2) It failed to thicken. It thickened after i let it sit. I failed to thicken it, perhaps is the correct statement. However, the sandwiches were easy and delicious and I will definitely make it again. I invited Jeff over thinking that 8 sandwiches would be too much. I think actually we could have eaten them all. I could have eaten them all. Thank you to all the ingredients that made this recipe possible. Thank you ham that my parents bought me that I didn't ask for. Thank you expensive Gruyere cheese that I'm glad I splurged on. Thank you cheap white Giant bread that helped me cut costs thanks to that expensive ass Gruyere but still tasted good toasted and smothered in cheese. Thank you broiler that works. And lastly, thank you Ina for making it all possible!!! Much love.


Angela said...

do you think you might be cracked?

like child birth just, you know, DID something to you??

just askin'.

periperijane said...

Don't be jealous of my writing skills. When i write my extremely popular chick lit novel, I will let you be my assistant. I prefer sparkling, not still.

Shihwe said...

What are you talking about, Angela? I love the ode! Very Neruda-esque. Have you read his ode to socks? You haven't? Here's the first stanza: Mara Mori brought me
a pair of socks
which she knitted herself
with her sheepherder’s hands,
two socks as soft as rabbits.
I slipped my feet into them
as if they were two cases
knitted with threads of twilight and goatskin,
Violent socks,
my feet were two fish made of wool,
two long sharks
sea blue, shot through
by one golden thread,
two immense blackbirds,
two cannons,
my feet were honored in this way
by these heavenly socks.
They were so handsome for the first time
my feet seemed to me unacceptable
like two decrepit firemen,
firemen unworthy of that woven fire,
of those glowing socks.