Type A Kitchen
That's me. Type A, and orange all over. Does anyone know what I'm talking about? Those silly personality tests that assign you a letter and sometimes a color describing you to a T.
I hated that answer. A. It meant uniformed, orderly, goal oriented, bossy. I wanted so bad to be that other color or letter. You know, blue maybe. Breezy, and relaxed. One of those hippy whatever the day may bring type of folks. Type A sounded so bossy. I was not and am not bossy. Wait hold on, I need to yell at my kids and tell my husband he's folding the onsies all wrong. Whew don't you just hate it when things aren't they way you like it?
I just wanted to lie in my artsy fartsy world. I wanted to be the fun wanderer type. How would that person ever happily maneuver with this strict and precise side. I think I just thought one had to die out letting the other take over, and the tests seem to point to that uptight side taking over. I thought it would comprimise my art, or love for life. I was young people, young and silly.
Of course I was that person through and through. I hated being in trouble. I liked work, and I liked to be good at my work. I liked neatness and order, even in art. I wasn't ready to be organized, and admit to that highly orderly person. I was afraid that accepting that person, would bring about a sense of failure or loss.
Now I find it much easier to let these 2 sides co-exist. But when that A side rears it's head in the kitchen, look out.
You see I can tend to fixate on something until I'm completely bored with it. Unfortunately this drive is misplaced at times, and could be very much used in other areas like a career, or cleaning my house. I choose to use it for things such as salted caramel.
I made some earlier and told you all about it here. I don't know what I was thinking attempting something like caramel with a newborn and a toddler and a pile of dirty laundry taking over the couch. I didn't get the effect that I wanted. Instead of just letting it go, I had to prevail.
I should have just let it go. I should have worn my free love uniform and let it be. But no, I tried and tried again. I researched more and turned to the masters of the classics; Mark Bittman, Ina,
David Lebovitz and his ten tips for making caramel. Smitten Kitchen and her salted caramel post where pressureing me back into the kitchen. Oh how I wish I could just have let it go.
I was off and and ready. I made one batch and it was a bit too dark. I enjoyed it terribly, but the others were offended by the bitterness. So I wasn't done yet. I had not conquered.
I went at it again, late and alone. No interruptions, just me, sugar, butter and cream. I could tell from the beginning that it was magic. It was so smooth, so sweet, and just the proper amount of salt. I was very excited to pour it on the homemade ice cream the next day. I made it for a family lunch and low and behold I was the only caramel fanatic. Everyone else was going for the macerated strawberries. I had a huge batch of caramel left. So much that I even gave some to Anty T and her roommate with still a jar left for me.
I was out of homemade ice cream and was just spooning the sauce out of the jar straight to my mouth. My glorious creation all to myself. Then I spotted the black berries and was curious, adventerous and perhaps desperate. I discovered magic in a bowl. How do they not sell this in the stores? How is this not a common everyday occurance? How can I be out of sauce already?
Oh this dang personality trait is horrible for my hips. I've now decided that the perfect ice cream sundae must be made now; homemade vanilla bean ice cream, macerated black berries, and the most perfect salted caramel in the world.
If you're thinking about making caramel and you have a propensity for being anal, be warned and buy some blackberries.