Intimidation

Today, I got my act together, gathered what little courage I have, and did something that is very, VERY intimidating to me: I went to a men's special clothier, and bought a custom made suit.

We all have things that set us off: I have many, and this is one of them. It isn't a question of hating to go shopping. I actually like shopping. But I always feel as if somehow, I'm inadequate or the sales clerks are laughing at me, etc, etc, etc. Naturally, none of this is true, and none of this is logical. But it is.

When it was done, I was exhausted, exhilirated, and I needed to talk about it. So I did. One person I spoke to was my "sorority sister," Dave. He sent me an email that started "Intimidated? YOU? I don't believe that." I thought he was being sarcastic, but no, he was serious. And that caused me to start thinking about many things and one of them was the whole concept of intimidation. There is one place where I never feel it: it's the kitchen. And interestingly enough, just like Dave was amazed when I 'fessed up about being intimidated about the designer suit, there are many people who suffer intimidation, to various degrees, in the kitchen.

I'm wondering why that is. And I'm hoping that those of you who do read this blog, will perhaps think about these questions: if being in the kitchen intimidates you, what part of it does? And if it's one part of cooking that does, tell me what that is. I'm very curious.

I'm even more curious now, because tonight, my friend "Huck" came over for a cooking lesson. He thought he was going to be here for a while, but we were done in less than an hour . We made french potato/leek soup (I am NOT going to start trying to write French again), a dish from Southeastern Italy, called "gamberi all buongiusta," which I'll explain below, and then zabaglione for dessert. All of these were new dishes for Michael. At the end , he said he would make the soup, and he would make the shrimp, but he had real doubts about the dessert.

And that's the one that seems to test people the most. There is something about dessert making: baking, custard making, and so forth, that really seems to scare people. And I would like to know why you think that is. At this point, I'm not going to try to talk anyone out of it: having experienced it first hand today, I have new respect for it. But I want to try to provide a framework for people to get less "freaked out" if you will over the cooking process. Help me here friends. We can all learn together.

No one needs to be intimidated by this recipe. It's from a book by Anna Teresa Callen called "The Cooking of the Abruzzo" When I first made this recipe, I had my doubts about its authenticity. Chef Callen admits when a recipe is one of her own "takes" on traditional cooking. My friend Andy, who was born there, however , says that yes, this is authentic. I suspect that Chef Callen has made some modifications for the American palate, like shelling the shrimp, and I keep them.

This really is a fifteen minute recipe. It's good enough for company. It makes a lot. One thing it's not, is cheap. But make it. It will make you feel very good, and if I tell you that zabaglione is no harder than this dish, maybe you'll believe me???

You'll need a pound and a half of shelled shrimp. The smaller ones are fine here. Now, just about all the shrimp you will find, regardless of where you buy it, is farmed. There ARE wild shrimp available, but the price is normally 2 or 3 times the prices of the farmed stuff. Maine shrimp are available early in the year, but they are so tiny, that shelling them for the recipe would leave you two tablespoons of usable meat. So, buy the 'large' shrimp (like canned olives, it seems the smallest size of shrimp is "large." ), and use those. Try to make sure that , while farmed, they were grown domestically. You stand more of a chance of getting a fresher product. You will also need a plastic bag, with a quarter cup of flour, and a generous teaspoon of salt in it. Also, 1/4 cup of olive oil (that's four tablespoons. Don't get nervous). You will also need a big tablespoon of tomato paste. I use the stuff in a tubeFinally, 3/4 cup of dry marsala wine.

Take the shrimp and put them in the bag, and then just shake them up to get a little coating on all of them. Don't overdue it. Some will get fully covered, and some won't. Then separate the shrimp from excess flour. I do it by just pouring the whole mess into a colander. The flour goes through the slots, the shrimp stay.

Heat the olive oil in a big, flat pan, and when it's hot, put in your shrimp. You'll get a "hiss" and the shrimp will begin to color. Leave them alone for about three minutes, then turn them to cook the other side, for another two. Then, take them out of the pan, and leave them at the side for a minute.

Put your tomato paste into the pan, and let it sizzle for a minute or two. Now, take the pan off the heat, and add the marsala. You'll get clouds of smoke and a nice big sizzle. Whatever you do, DONT DO IT WHILE THE PAN IS ON THE FIRE. You could get badly burned. After the wine has stopped bubbling furiously, get it back on the flame, and add the shrimp. Cook the shrimp in the wine for three minutes or so. The flour on the shrimp will thicken the wine dramatically. It will almost look like winy ketchup. This is precisely what you want. You're done now, but if you want to add one more element, tear up some fresh sage leaves, say three or four, and toss them in with the shrimp. Make sure you smell it before you move away.

This is a really, REALLY good recipe. I hope you think it's easy, and I hope you try it. Like many of these recipes, a pound and a half of shrimp is a lot of food. Share it. Next time, maybe you can teach someone how to make it.

And we'll all work on getting over our fears together.