Challenge Accepted

As the page turns, so does a new chapter begin. As it is written, so shall it be.

Enough cliches for one line? I think so.

As you may have noticed, my presense here has been, shall we say, completely null and void for some time. It turns out that selling your soul to Mother Bread has some consequences beyond spending entirely too much time around frozen cookie dough.

I have, of late, been stifled. My culinary escapades have been about as adventurous as the mid-afternoon nap of a beached walrus. This, dear friends, is a problem. And one that is to be soon fixed.

First and foremost, I am a creature in need of stimulation. I am a cold blooded culinarian - and that's not to say I'll steal your scallops for my own ceviche. Rather, I thrive on experience. Taste, touch, sight. Give to me, and I will give back. Give me nothing, and you will get less in return.

I hate to break it to you, mama dearest, but the past year of pastry blanks and 3 hour old sandwiches just haven't done much for me.

And so I must say, with all due respect (that is to say, very little), good bye. Adieu. I'll not be calling. I won't write. I will, however, be back to pick up my last paycheck. That's about it, though.

I am on to greater and greener pastures, as it were. I've always been a fan of variety (and not waking up before 8 am), so it works out that a pair of part time jobs will fit the bill (and foot mine). And, considering I'm still in the rather fledgling state of life, exposure to a wider selection of operations and techniques will do me good.

I could go into more detail about where I'll be working and what I'll be doing, but that would both take away from future articles and continue to distract me from the original point of this one.

I am going to start doing what I should have been doing all along. I am going to start cooking.

Hard.

I hereby declare, to the internet world, my intentions. I shall henceforth make it a point to better myself and my skills, to expand my working knowledge and calibur.

This may sound fancy, convoluted even, but it is quite simple really.

I will cook. And I will do it with reason.

I will do it with passion.

I will do it. With everything that I have and that I am. And it will be good.

My goal is thus; Twice a month (ish). I will prepare something. Something new, different. I will try different things. I will play with techniques and foods that I haven't. I will take ideas, in the form of dishes, styles, ingredients, or anything in between, and I will run with them.

I will buy plates. Yes, I am offering the world of porcelain my hard earned dollar bills. I will use said plates. I will make things beautiful. I will garnish. But never needlessly. I may, even, take a few pictures.

I will practice. I will improve. I will live.

So what are you to be doing during all of this?

You are to be my inspiration. For this, I need ideas. I need ingredients, a dish, a cuisine... anything.

If you are extremely lucky, I will need you to be my taste tester. Words for the wise, bribery is a great way to start on that front.

I can accept no one's fault but my own for falling into such a rut as I have. Let it not be thought that I have not picked up a pan over the course of the year, but it's true enough that I've stuck to the simpler things that often come from cooking for one.

I suppose, though, that I can think of one great way to fix all of this silliness.

With newly sharpened knife in hand, I head into the black. Keep flyin', said Captain Mal to his crew. Keep cookin', says I to mine.

I've sold my soul to the corporate devil

But I still make the best grilled cheese sandwich ever.

Okay, so I won't actually claim that title, but I will say that my version is a lot better than the one you'll get off the menu.

And I didn't completely sell my soul, either... I just made some adjustments. Like suffering through prepackaged, frozen soups in exchange for a relatively normal schedule and most weekends to myself. A rare accommodation, at best. And there's yet hope for me, as I likewise upped my title to that of Catering Coordinator (or catering manager, if I feel like inflating my ego a bit).

Even so, I can sometimes find an oasis in the desert of culinary sedation.

Often enough, this comes in the form of the previously mentioned grilled cheese sandwich.

How does one dig around the dregs to find something worth writing home about? Don't think about it too much. Keep it simple, and keep it good.

So if you work in a bakery cafe, start with bread. That, at least, you can trust. Sourdough, in particular. I'm a fan of good sourdough. Sourdough has soul. I've never tried making my own starter, though it's simple in principle - it's just creating an environment where yeast can grow naturally, so that you don't have to add commercial yeast.

I have, in the past, made bread using a wet primer. The idea is to mix in yeast with the sugar and some water to allow the yeast to grow a bit before you mix the rest together. The added time allows for the yeast to... well... do yeastly things. Remember that this is a living, breathing (at least to an extent) creature. The various processes that the extra few hours allow add substantial flavors to the end product.

A sourdough starter is akin to this process, with just an extra handful of awesome thrown in for additional epic level quality.

So we have the base, time for a little sauce action. Dry bread is sad bread, as far as I'm concerned. Unless it's a crouton. And even then it should be coated in dressing.

Spicy mustard does the trick here. I could try for some of the fancier spreads, like sun-dried tomato pesto, but honestly if I'm going to go for something that complicated, I'd rather make it myself. Of course, that may make me sound a bit heretical, as the mustard had to come from somewhere too, but I've seen and tasted the fresh form. And as with most of everything else, it's just better that way.

Now we're on to cheese selection. Which, sadly, is a bit lacking. I could attempt to sneak some fresh mozzarella out of the walk-in, but I'd probably be hunted down. So I settle for swiss. Not that swiss is what I'd call "settling". Provolone would be nice. A mix would be better. Freshly sliced would trump it all. But I can't do much about that. And it's still pretty good cheese.

And now to make this more than just your average sandwich.

We start with tomatoes. Just a couple of slices on each side, to add a little moisture and flavor. Some fresh basil, if no one forgot to order it. Maybe some thin sliced avocado if I'm feeling particularly frisky. And I am, usually. And, of course, salt and pepper. I like flavor, go figure.

Layer everything between the swiss, and you've got the start of something beautiful.

If no one higher up than my GM is around, I can get away with throwing this bad boy into one of the rack ovens for a few minutes. Without that luxury, I'm stuck with the panini press, which if you're willing to sit around for 10 minutes or so, will actually start to melt the cheese. Why someone would shell out multiple thousands of dollars for a contraption that can be equally rivaled by a pair of hot bricks I may never know. I guess they really like those grill marks.

In any case, let it sit for a while, and you're in business. It could be better. It could enjoy the company of some kalamata olives, of which I could find on premisis. It could have some herb butter to actually slather on the bread.

But hey, if you're in the middle of the desert, you shouldn't be holding out for Dasani.