I dreamt about a turkey. Not just any turkey, but a twenty-pound Thanksgiving turkey – crispy, juicy and bursting with stuffing. I dreamt about mashed potatoes, homemade rolls, and brownies. I dreamt about beef stroganoff, spaghetti with meatballs and a cannoli. And as I was moving onto a dream about a nice steak dinner, somehow a plate of salmon appeared and then things got weird: hamburgers, burritos, and an omelet erupted from my sink. Chicken lo mein fell from the sky and I was the only one of my flat-mates who couldn’t find a fork! When a pecan pie with a layer of chocolate chips smashed through my floor (it was so heavy) that the flat below me started rejoicing, I woke up in a cold sweat. It was finally time – to go grocery shopping.
While I hate to admit it, whoever said that studying abroad is the best way to get to know yourself better, was right. Unfortunately since arriving in England, what I’ve newly discovered about myself is something I don’t want to know, something I never thought was possible. Without further ado (I’m getting hungry here) I’ll just say it: I can’t cook! You have no idea how sad the day was for me when I realized this unfortunate fact. Although I’m used to messing up on simple tasks like chocolate chip cookies (something about not following the directions step by step) I was not expectingthis.
I had always assumed that when the day came that I had my own oven, it would be a piece of cake (I would even bake cakes in it!). I would serve up three course meals and bake my own bread, all without breaking a sweat. Oh, I was beyond naive – when I saw the movie Julie & Julia about a blogger who decides to cook her way though each recipe in Julia Child’s first book, I imagined myself following a similar cookbook, maybe even Julia Child’s herself! As proven by my recent lifestyle of PB & J sandwiches for lunch and pasta for dinner (plus the weird food dreams) it’s official. I need to learn how to cook.
There is one tiny problem: I don’t have the motivation! While I know my microwave meals are seriously unhealthy and that cereal out of a box is not the most nutritious snack, I keep telling myself my time and effort is needed for other things, just not for cooking. Conveniently for me, it seems that every time I enter the grocery store and reach for something that requires cooking, right beside it sits something you can microwave. Seriously, who knew there were so many foods you could microwave? Even watching my British flat-mates as they bake, roast, and sautéwith ease, I feel more depressed than motivated.
While this will come as no surprise, one of the things I miss the most about St. Olaf is the Caf. There is no cafeteria on this campus. Compared to the one-oven kitchen in my flat, the Caf is a culinary heaven: it’s bountiful stations, it’s tantalizing options, its opportunity to return for seconds, thirds, fourths – it’s almost too good to be true. But, without the Caf and no spare change for a private caterer, I guess I have to buckle down and, well cook.
Just, not today. Today, I headed to Greggs. Now Greggs is amazing: a Cage-like bakery in the main square of campus, they offer sandwiches, donuts, muffins, and best of all meat pies, a British specialty. Usually palm-sized, meat pies look just like how they sound: your choice of meat, usually sausage, chicken, ham or even steak, baked with a few savory ingredients in a small pie tin. The result: delicious! One Sausage Roll – turn around, walk back in, wow, that looked good too – and one Chicken And Cheese Pie later, I was full and ready for my day of classes.
It’s only now, back in my flat that I’m wishing I could cook. Still, I do have an unopened box of Honey-Nut Cheerios…
*Lucy Casale ’13 is studying at Lancaster University in Lancaster, England for second semester.