I cook a lot and yet I am still baffled by why so many
things went wrong that night.
I’ve been cooking since I was nine.
By the time I was eleven, I was able to routinely prepare an
entire meal for six people night after night. So, I know what to do.
I don’t know; there was just something about this one night
that has perplexed me. Really, I know how to cook!
It’s 1974, I know, the dark ages before cell phones,
computers, iPads, laptops and YouTube. It’s so far in the distant past that it
is also the time before microwaves, cable TV and Velcro.
Anyway, in 1974, my husband and I were both in the Navy,
living in New London, Connecticut. He was a dashing Ltjg stationed aboard the
USS Benjamin Franklin, SSBN 640 (Blue), as the assistant navigator. I was an
Ensign attached to the Supervisor of Shipbuilding, Conversion and Repair,
Electric Boat Division (where they actually build submarines). I was the
Communications officer there.
Since my husband was on what (and still) is called a
‘two-crew’ submarine, this meant that while one crew is at sea, the other crew
is at home enjoying being at home. It’s also the time when you politic, enjoy your
wardroom (or the officers on board) by entertaining.
The Navy is a very political organization. The best way to
politic is to entertain and the best way to entertain is to do so over good
food. Quiet, intimate dinner parties with wonderful meals and good friends make
for enhanced working relationships at sea. For the wives left behind, it helped
us to help each other quite a bit more when they guys were out and we also
really enjoyed being with such wonderful people.
So one very cold, wet, wintery Saturday night, I decided to
invite Troy’s Executive Officer (XO), the Navigator, the Engineer and their
wives over for dinner. Dinner for eight: no problem!
My menu was ambitious but not outrageous: Clam dip with
crudités and crackers, wild rice, beef stroganoff, steamed broccoli with lemon
butter, fresh rolls and home made lemon merengue pie for dessert. This is a
pretty basic supper: no sweat!
When you cook, timing is everything, so I decided to make
the dessert first. Lemon merengue pie is not hard, but it can be time
consuming. I made the crust from scratch, tough to do because as a newly wed, I
didn’t own a rolling pin, so I had to use a drinking glass to roll out the
dough, but no problem, I can be inventive. Then I needed to juice the lemons
but again, I realized that here was another tool I didn’t own, a juicer, but I
used a fork instead to get the lemon juice out. I can be clever. I got the
juice. I also didn’t own an egg separator for the egg whites, so I used the
shells. That always looks so easy on cooking shows, but the jagged edge of the
shells has a tendency to snag that yolk. Egg whites don’t become merengue with
egg yolk in them. After about a dozen eggs, I finally had enough ‘whites’ for
merengue.
The pie came out perfectly! It smelled glorious! I was
triumphant! I let it cool on the counter and then later, I put it in the fridge
to chill.
Next, I followed my recipe for the perfect clam dip – which,
in the 1970’s was what you served. I put that off to chill.
Then I moved on to the stroganoff. I followed the recipe to
the letter on this, no deviations. The aroma filled our little on-base house.
I prepared the broccoli, managed to make the lemon butter
and set that aside.
Finally just before guests were due to arrive, I started the
wild rice, again, following the directions to the letter, or so I thought. . .
.
It’s 15 minutes before guests arrive. The table is set, the
music is on, the food is on track and Oh My God what is that smell!
We had two Siamese cats, Sam and Mindy. Sammy was always a
bit nervous. Once he saw another cat in the window and passed out cold. Today,
he can’t get to the cat box because my sweet husband forgot and closed the door to the cat box room. This made Sammy so
upset that he ran around the house screaming and let me tell you Siamese can
scream, trying to get us to open the door. But I was cooking. Finally, he was
so upset, he had diarrhea in my avocado tree, which was right next to the
dining room table. He got our attention really quickly after that.
Troy and I sprung into action. We then realized that the cat box room was closed off. Once we opened
that door for Sammy, he stopped screaming. Then we rushed the plant outside.
Once we were back inside we tried to do something to get rid of that
staggeringly horrible smell. We opened windows, tried air freshener, opened
doors – and it’s winter outside and the house is getting colder and colder and
the smell is only mildly dissipating. Finally we found some air freshener and
masked that smell. I think the little tree was toast.
I rushed back into the kitchen and quickly put out the clam
dip, crudités, crackers and napkins. Then the doorbell rings!
See Part 2 next week. . . and yes, there really is going to
be a point to this story.
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