Jealousy is such an ugly emotion. Ugly, ugly, ugly. Especially when it is displayed by me.
Friday night the boys and I go over to our friends Kim and Lori’s house. Kim is also a big-time cook and she and I are making supper. I have not seen Kim’s house since she did a giant remodel, tearing out a wall between her old kitchen and the garage and making a brand new kitchen. I know I am going to be impressed…and jealous. Very jealous.
My kitchen is humble. I like to pretend I live in France because my kitchen is about as big as the average kitchen in Paris. I arrive at Kim’s and there it is. A big honking brand new kitchen with everything. She has two sinks, one with a fancy pot filler. She has custom cabinets and deep, deep drawers for her thousands of high quality pots and pans. Her Le Creuset enamel pots look brand new (my one pot is 25 years old and chipped – am I whining yet?).
And then we get to the crushing blow. The stove. I look like I’m smiling here, but it is a facade masking my intense jealousy over this stove. It is an industrial restaurant stove, a six burner. Gas, naturally. Two ovens. Convection. I am green with envy but I do not display it. However, I actually bring the one kitchen tool that Kim does not have. It is a ricer for the whipped potatoes with cilantro pesto. She marvels at it. Says she’s always wanted one. She has the $6,000 stove. I have the $14.99 ricer. I take what solace I can.
The meal is a great success. Kim makes Bobby Flay’s pork chops with a soy and honey glaze. Here’s the recipe. She grills them on her medium Big Green Egg. I have a large one. Ha! Oh, that’s petty, too, isn’t it.
The chops were very tasty. Very tasty, indeed. But the hit of the supper were those whipped potatoes with cilantro pesto.
They are also from a Bobby Flay recipe. I just love Bobby Flay. He’s such a creative guy and his recipes, unlike my former boyfriend, Thomas Keller, are easy to follow. Maybe I’ll make Bobby Flay my new boyfriend. He makes his whipped potatoes with butter and milk and cream. Yes!
So the evening was a smashing success. Great food and great conversation with two of my favorite gal pals. We’re getting ready to leave. I gather up my cookbooks and head for the ricer. “Uh, could I keep it for a few days?” Kim asks. Of course, I respond with a faint whiff of superiority.