Over the many years I've spent at or near my stove, dutifully following a recipe or doing a little jazz cooking, my spices, herbs (and other ingredients) demand to be included in whatever it is I'm making — and they won't be quiet until I add them (they
even tell me how much to add).
Of course this doesn't happen with all my dishes. The spices and herbs are pretty quiet when I'm baking filet mignon. They know I've got that recipe down cold: Dijon mustard, garlic, salt, sage or, if I'm in a hurry, Penzey's Steak Seasoning. The same
is so for Stroganoff, Chicken Cacciatore, and a long list of never-fail home-run recipes.
But there are times when my kitchen is so loud, I wind up making things I didn't intend to make. This evening's meal is a perfect example: I'd planned to pan fry tilapia with a seasoned flour coating. But noooooooo....... my kitchen had a different idea:
I'd broil the tilapia (with a bit of Old Bay), then serve it with a sauce that — I swear — dictated itself to me:
1 tbsp. olive oil
1 tbsp. butter
1/8 c. yellow onion, diced
2 cloves garlic, minced (about 1 tbsp.)
1 scallion, diced (this for color... so sayeth the kitchen)
1/2 a small tomato, diced
1/4 c. dry white wine
1 tbsp. lemon juice
1 tsp. dried oregano
1 tsp. dried basil
1 tsp. fresh rosemary (it called to me from the freezer)
Gently heat the oil and butter until it's melted, then add remaining ingredients and simmer on low until it's reduced in volume to about half. Serve on top of the broiled tilapia.
And you know what? It's fabulous! What can I say? I appear to be a slave to the whims of my kitchen.