Have you ever had one of those moments when an idea permeates your gray matter, relentlessly nagging you until you cave? This is like that, only it involves heavy whipping cream and cognac. Not foreplay for the brain, but for the taste buds. The better half and I were eating dinner on the couch, as is frequently the case since we have spent so much time together in the past few weeks, we have almost completely exhausted all civil discourse reserved for meals. The television was on and the characters were becoming uncharacteristically obsessed with food. Steak au poive to be exact. My partner had to know, what is the steak au poive and should he be eating it?

After a quick web search, he concluded we should try it, so we gathered a list of ingredients and settled on this recipe. Aside from the kitchen fire, I didn’t deviate from the recipe. I even made a special trip to the liquor store for cognac.

The preparations were straight forward and trouble free, until it was time to prepare the cream sauce. I lifted the skillet off the burner to add the cognac. You already know where this going, right? Immediately the alcohol flamed, without any encouragement from a combustion source, and three foot flames rose from the pan, around the stove hood, tracing the cabinet doors. I backed away from the stove, with the pan, and went about the business of efficiently extinguishing the flames, both in the pan and on the counter top before calling my partner in to wisk the cream before I busted my ass on the kitchen floor in the small puddle of cognac at my feet.

After checking for singed hair and the presence of eye brows, the Mister asked why I didn’t call him sooner. I responded that it simply wouldn’t have worked. When your dousing the flames that have consumed your entrée, you don’t have time to explain why, lest you singe all the hair from your arms, and set the whole fucking kitchen on fire. Sometimes reactions are more important than explanations.

I have never seen that much fire in a residential kitchen, much less been the cause of it. Strangely the means justified the tenderloin. Just keep a fire extinguisher available should you follow my example.

* Television is evil.

The magical goodness that is locally grown, fresh sweet corn. Microwave in the shuck, for one minute, plus an additional two minutes for each ear (i.e. 2 ears, cook 5 minutes regular power). What? You expected more effort? Surely you jest. Okay, add salt and butter, if you must.

The weekly market is in full swing. Each Sunday, through December, local produce, live music, handcrafted items, massage therapist, and a climbing wall for the kids (Yours, not mine. Mine prefer the drapes) are conveniently located in the same space. Now it feels like summer, as if the crunchy grass beneath my feet, and sweat rings on my clothes wasn’t indication enough.

I’m something of a food snob, with a mediocre interest in cooking. I’m not constantly plagued with recharging the fire extinguisher, but I have burned more peas than any person should have to account for when not cooking meals with the aid of a welding torch. But, you know shit does happen, and when it happens to peas it smells a lot like smoldering hair.

Zucchini and yellow squash are at the peak of freshness. When picked young, their flavor has a natural sweetness, seldom duplicated from truck farmed inventory available at the grocery. These are usually roasted in the oven, are added to baby portobello mushrooms to create a bastardized version of stir-fry. The commonality is both meals require less effort from me in an apron.

I like food. I like good food. But, I don’t like not knowing what’s in my food or preserving my food. Cooking has become something of a necessary evil. The scientific names on can labels, and boxed preservatives tends to freak me out, so I don’t prepare convenience food as often as I once did.

Fresh produce shouldn’t be a luxury, but for many families it is. It perplexes me how fresh food that hasn’t been heavily processed (washing doesn’t count) can cost more than crap in a cardboard box. Although I doubt understanding why, would make me feel better about it.