I sealed my doom when I took upon me this challenge to cook a new recipe each month this year. The only requirement I put on myself was that they all be a favorite food of mine. I am also trying to keep a pledge to my elder nieceling to have each one come from a different country (I expand that to include cuisine).
April’s effort: Chinese spare ribs.
Now, let’s be clear here. I could find no substantive evidence that anyone in China actually created or ate these ribs. It’s very likely, along with many other dishes in your typical American Chinese restaurant, that Chinese spare ribs are a Chinese-American affectation to suit the tastes of the “western” taste buds.
But, what the hey, they suit my taste buds just fine.
And, while I drew a big zilch on the origins of the Chinese spare rib, I found dozens of recipes for them.
Using a combination of my three top choices of recipes and selecting to cook them in the oven, I waited impatiently for them to marinate overnight. The scent of the coating permeated even the sealed plastic bag.
Then the cooking. And some brushing of more marinade. And then some more. And then they were done.
Oh good gosh…they came out perfect! I am so doomed.
I seem to be getting better at cooking my favorite foods by the attempt. The Swedish meatballs were decent. The stuffed cabbages were tasty. The Jamaican jerk chicken was zesty and these Chinese spare ribs are irresistible.
Good thing I bought an extra rack at Penn Dutch, because I have claims on them from family members and, based on my voracious eating at lunch today, I have no qualms advertising my skills!
How does this all add up to doom, you ask? Two major ways:
– I foresee less and less time spent outside my home eating when I can cook everything I love right in my own kitchen. Heck, the clean-up for these wasn’t even difficult. That’s just so wrong. As if I wasn’t already trending hermit.
– I continue to be unable to cook for a single person. I don’t care to “mess with” the recipes to drop the volume down to single-serving size. That means I will need to either purchase stock in Rubbermaid or get really fat. Assuming I go the former route, I may have some space issues. Or, to paraphrase “Jaws”, “We need to get a bigger freezer!”
Thankfully, I had to do this blog post, otherwise I am sure I would still be eating even more ribs (the remainder of the rack is cooking as I type).
I never thought being a good cook could be worse than being a crummy one.