It was chilly today and I haven't made chowder in forever, so I decided to make a pot. I'd seen a recipe in Wain's copy of Laurel's Kitchen, so I went with that.
Laurel's Kitchen, for the uninitiated, is a 70s-era vegetarian cookbook full of dreary, wholesome recipes, with a design scheme to match. Also, it introduces most every recipe with well-meaning but depressing little blurbs like Who would have guessed that four lima beans soaked in lukewarm water could produce such a hearty, nutritious feast? Garnish with parsley for a little something different!
Well, whatever. I knew this stuff isn't the kind of thing I usually like to cook--I'm not about to whip up a lentil loaf or incorporate millet into my diet as they suggest--but I figured one corn chowder recipe is just as good as any other. Lots of the other recipes sounded frankly awful to me, but surely, I thought, vegetarians know their soup.
About a half an hour later, I discovered what a filthy lie I'd told myself. I've made good corn chowder before, but this one sucked ferret balls.
By following the recipe pretty much exactly I was able to produced something that tasted like--strike that, was--nothing
but hot watery milk with a bunch of sad chopped vegetables floating in
it. I double-checked the recipe. Nope, it wasn't me.
I added garlic, quadrupled the salt, threw in ground pepper and two kinds of chili powder. I let it sit. At Wain's suggestion, I even stirred in a fucking roux, all in hopes I could thicken it up and get it to taste like something. The roux helped the texture, but the spices just made it taste like salty, spicy hot milk. Which tastes kind of bad, by the way.
I swore. I threatened to throw the soup out. I went on a long tirade that, with Wain's slightly inebriated assistance, somehow ended with me feasting on a victory chowder made of Laurel's grain-fed internal organs. I went out to the store to get bread and give the chowder a chance to settle. I came back from the store. Eric and Wain had thrown in more random spices. It was better, but it still wasn't good. I pouted.
Finally, the boys convinced me to let them fry up some bacon and stir it in. That did it. By the grace of bacon, dinner was saved.
To be fair, most of the recipes in any 70s cookbook are too bland for my taste, and I know there are some awesome vegetarian cookbooks out there. I just don't think Laurel's Kitchen is the one for me.