"It could be so exciting....

To be out in the world, to be free
My heart should be wildly rejoicing
Oh, what's the matter with me?"*

So, yeah, I'm just a little bit nervous.

I made pizza dough from scratch, hoping to replicate just a hint of the delicious thin-crust pizzas we enjoyed in Tuscany. Not only did they turn out undercooked and doughy, but as David picked up his slice, all the toppings (gorgeous slices of heirloom tomatoes, fresh mozzarella and torn basil leaves) slid off the dough and into a heap on the plate. "Uh, I think I'll need a knife and fork," he said. As I cleaned up the kitchen after dinner, I suddenly realized that I don't have any particular flair for cooking. People have been humoring me, the way people always do. What am I thinking? Who am I trying to kid?

A TV commercial for a medical website ran regularly during the baseball playoffs. Assorted people tell us about the emergencies that have them consulting the site, and one young man in a chef's coat says, exuberantly, "FIRST I burned my arm, THEN I fell backwards and hit my head!"

Will I require stitches?

"I've always longed for adventure
To do the things I've never dared...
And here I'm facing adventure....
Then why am I so scared?"*

My mother (baking all her life) quizzes me: "I've always wondered about the difference between salted and unsalted butter. I always buy salted, but sometimes the recipe calls for unsalted. Should I be making some adjustment?" She's my touchstone for making perfect oatmeal raisin cookies and her pie crust is always the flakiest. Why is she asking me for advice? I haven't even started school yet!

And I don't want to become be "The Person Who Cooks" and have to cook everything, all the time. I love eating out, and being invited over for dinner and I don't want people to assume that I'd rather be in charge in the kitchen. Or that I should be, by virtue of expertise. "Come to the table": music to my ears. But some friends already make those self-deprecating kind of comments (even before I made the cooking school decision). "You'd have done a better job, I'm sure," or "I'm not as into cooking as you are, so I'll apologize in advance."

I have to dissuade them from going there. I'll just serve some soggy pizza.

* credit to Oscar Hammerstein II

BROTHER JOACHIM'S COOKIES

These come from the San Damiano Retreat House in Danville, California. My mom mixes up a quadruple batch, in the Big Bowl, and wraps 3” diameter tubes of dough in freezer paper. She always has frozen cookies ready to slice and bake at a moment’s notice. On her copy of the recipe, in my dad's handwriting, is the note “Good with beer”.

13-1/2 ounces softened butter (3 sticks + 1-1/2 tablespoons)
1-1/2 cups + 2 tablespoons brown sugar, packed
2 cups granulated sugar
4 eggs
1-1/2 teaspoons vanilla extract
2 cups + 2 tablespoons all purpose flour
2-1/4 teaspoons salt
2-1/4 teaspoons baking soda
1-1/2 teaspoons cinnamon
4 cups quick cooking oatmeal
1 cup chopped nuts
3/4 cup raisins

In a large bowl, cream butter and sugars. Add eggs and vanilla; mix well.

In a separate bowl, sift together flour, salt, baking soda and cinnamon. Add to butter mixture and mix well.

Stir in oatmeal, nuts, and raisins. Form dough into logs, 2” to 3” in diameter. Refrigerate until firm. (Or wrap well and freeze until needed.)

To bake cookies, preheat oven to 375°. Slice cookies into 1/4” discs. Place about 2” apart on greased cookie sheets. Bake for about 15 minutes, or until golden brown. Allow cookies to cool on cookie sheets for about 10 minutes, then remove to a rack and allow to cool completely.

[I know I should tell you how many cookies this recipe makes. But I got it from my mom, and she got it from the cook at the retreat house, and her notes don't include the quantity, either. Tell you what. I'll make the cookies one of these days, and then update this note. Or you could make them! and then let me know. They're good with beer.]