Tessie D

Angel came over for dinner last night. My roommates had gone to the bar, and I was going to be home by myself, so I cooked dinner for both of us.

I am not great cook, but I’m not terrible one either. I’m certainly better than Momma, who doesn’t know how to cook anything other than ground beef crumbled with egg noodles… or ground beef patties with brown gravy… or ground beef meatballs with spaghetti sauce from a jar. Lord help us if she wants to cook a vegetable that’s not canned corn, canned green beans, or an iceberg salad (which is just torn lettuce, some shredded cheese, and a heaping mound of Thousand Island dressing). I love Momma, but she might be one of the worst cooks ever.

Annie and I had to learn to cook since Momma worked nights, and the holiday meals were our responsibility. Momma would come in from work, wrap the turkey in tinfoil, and then go to bed. Annie and I were responsible for the rest of it. We were making cornbread dressing and baking pumpkin pies before we’d graduated from junior high. Granted, we weren’t making anything super fancy–most of it came from a box or a mix. But, for two pre-teens, we did pretty good in the kitchen.

I’m not a bad cook now either. I remember a lot of what I saw at the restaurant all those years ago about making rolls, grilling steaks, and cooking steamed vegetables. And, since I’ve been on my own, I’ve also gotten really good at cooking a not-too-shabby dinner on a budget. I can make a big bag of dried pinto beans, a big bag of rice, and the cheap ground beef from the tube taste pretty good. I’ve taught myself to make tortillas, and I found a bread machine at a yard sale a couple months ago. I also learned from the dairyhands that the best — and cheapest — spices, peppers, and vegetables come from the Mexican grocery store in town.

I’m also probably being a little too hard on Momma. People have this idea that living in the country means that we must have access to the best, freshest fruits and vegetables. But none of that is true. Farmers’ markets are way too expensive to ever shop there regularly. And, the mom-and-pop grocery store in town has stuff that someone might expect, like apples, oranges, and potatoes. But they came off a truck weeks ago, and they don’t usually have any taste or are mealy and starchy. We can drive thirty minutes to the superstore in the bigger town over, but they don’t taste much better. Applesauce and canned fruit cocktail was the best we could get.

I skipped my lunch break yesterday and ducked out early to stop by the grocery store on my way home. I was going to make Angel the dish that I could make the best: chicken fried steak, white gravy, mashed potatoes, Texas toast, sweet tea, and bread pudding.

“It is a curious fact that novelists have a way of making us believe that luncheon parties are invariably memorable for something very witty that was said, or for something very wise that was done. But they seldom spare a word for what was eaten. It is part of the novelist’s convention not to mention soup and salmon and ducklings, as if soup and salmon and ducklings were of no importance whatsoever, as if nobody smoked a cigar or drank a glass of wine. Here, however, I shall take the liberty to defy that convention and to tell you that the lunch on this occasion…”

So, in the spirit of Virginia Woolf, let me explain dinner. First, “steak” doesn’t mean it’s an expensive cut of meat. Skirt steak is thin and–before it’s tenderized–pretty tough. It’s also cheap as all get out. Which is why someone figured out that when it’s coated in an egg wash, flour, salt, and pepper and then pan-fried, it’s pretty delicious. Everyone has their own take on it–some don’t dunk it in egg and milk before coating it in flour. That’s okay, but they’re wrong. The salt and pepper is also important–unless the white gravy will have a lot of salt. Still, the real secret is to double dip it: dunk it twice in the egg wash and flour mixture so that the meat is well coated. A multitude of sins can be forgiven with the double-dip.

White gravy: That’s just straining the oil from the pan to clean it up a bit, adding a bit of flour, salt, and pepper until it’s like a paste, then whisk in milk until it thickens.

Mashed potatoes: Potatoes are cheap, and if there’s milk for the chicken fried steak, there’s milk for the potatoes. Canned, evaporated, and powdered will all work. What’s most important, though, is not too overwhip and to add lots of butter, which isn’t too expensive to make with a little heavy cream. Also important: Salt and pepper.

Texas toast: Cheaper than rolls and I can make that in my bread maker with some yeast and several cups of flour. Again, butter.

Sweet tea: Three, maybe four, tea packets in boiling water. Stir in a cup of sugar until it dissolves. Then, pour the tea into a 1 gallon pitcher with cold water.

Finally, bread pudding. Someone might say that it’s supposed to be peach cobbler or cherry pie. They’re not wrong. Canned peaches are cheap and pie crust is just butter and flour. But, what’s even cheaper is bread pudding: left over, days-old bread cut into cubes, stir together some milk, egg, and sugar together. Pour over the bread cubes and bake. Bread pudding can be fancier with raisins (nothing fancy, just the kind that they put in little kid’s lunch boxes) and cinammon or nutmeg if it’s around. Whip up some of the heavy cream while the bread pudding is baking and then serve.

Yes, there’s not a vegetable. I don’t like canned vegetables and anything fresh is, like I said, either expensive or not worth the effort. So, I don’t make them.

Of course, when Angel came over, he was surprised by how much I could cook so quickly. And, oddly, he’d never had bread pudding before. I suppose it’s not something that they serve in fancier restaurants.

But, he was impressed by the entire affair. “This is legitimately good, Tess,” he said between mouthfuls of the steak and potatoes.

“Thank you,” I said back, feeling pleasantly surprised and happy in the domesticisty of the moment. Us, sitting at the kitchen table eating a dinner that I’d prepared. For him.