Starving students we are not

In Sydney I’ve discovered a man who is happy to let grocery bills eat up an even larger portion of one’s income than I am – what I thought was an impossible task. Neither of us grew up in households of extravagant tastes (his family ate what they themselves produced, and mine were of the meat-and-potatoes variety), but the household we’re setting up now is one very concerned with food. We’re encouraged in our (addition? obsession? fascination? hobby? mild hysteria?) by the fact that we live in Ithaca, a place with a great farmer’s market, several quirky grocery places, a number of resources for organic/natural/local foods, and a gigantic, upscale grocery store that has everything our recipes might call for.

So, what does that actually amount to, you ask?

Our first Thanksgiving here was spent cooking, rather than writing term papers. Curries, breads, soups, and casseroles came pouring out of our kitchen. Our windowsills are often filled with bowls of beans and red-and-yellow peppers from Sydney’s garden, and the top of our filing cabinets holds a pretty large cache of fruit. I also put a few potatoes on the windowsill, until Sydney kindly explained to me that sunlight and potatoes are not a good mix. Oops. We have a great spice collection (thanks, Mom, for getting us started!) and throw onions, basil, and cumin in everything.

I’ll admit right up front that I have not discovered the joy of baking. Our oven is small and slightly temperamental, and I’ll take the smell of sauteed onions over fussy pastries any day. Besides, I balk at the amount of butter recipes call for, and so end up making so many substitutions that my cookies don’t even resemble the recipe with which I started. I can assure you that warm, sinfully-buttery cookies will not be rolling out of my kitchen any time soon. Besides, my husband thinks light, fluffy pastries are for the birds. He likes his desserts to resemble bricks (is it the German blood or Sydney’s sheer perversity?), so it’s probably a good thing that becoming a pastry goddess is not my heart’s desire.

I will also admit that I am not the lead chef in our house. Sydney outpaced me early on and has stayed there ever since. I frown over recipes and am easily dismayed, but he waltzes into a kitchen, throws things together, and comes up with really amazing dinners. Kudos to him. I am a very grateful wife – most likely the only time in my life that I will be happy to be shown up by Sydney 🙂

A couple of days ago Sydney whipped up a spicy tomato soup for lunch. I was pretty happy that I could come back with homemade pizza for dinner: basil pesto, onions, and red peppers on top of a rosemary-and-olive-oil focaccia. Needless to say, we ate well.

This afternoon we left our apartment for the first time in days, spent two hours and a lot of cash at the grocery store, and then Sydney whipped up a creamy lentil soup that is, simply, wonderful. Alrighty, he wins, no contest.

Erin