Discovering My Inner Raccacoonie

It turns out, I love cooking!

When I was in fifth grade, I went through a very brief phase where I wanted to be a chef. My family had just moved to South Texas and there was a guy who would appear on television every week and detail a new recipe from his culinary Rolodex. Maybe it was his giant white hat or the catchphrase he ended each broadcast with (I don’t actually remember the name of the chef or, indeed, his catchphrase but I’m sure he had one) or maybe it was the fact that he looked kind of like Dom DeLuise (it wasn’t Dom DeLuise) but something in the man’s weekly broadcasts inspired me to give the ol’ cooking thing a try. While grocery shopping with my mom, I’d write down a list of ingredients and beg her until she purchased the obscure spices or unusual cuts of meat I needed to replicate what I saw on television.

God bless a mother who lets her eleven-year-old son cook a shark steak.

Unfortunately, this phase lasted a single summer, and, by the time I entered sixth grade, I was back to wolfing down whatever my mom cooked that evening - once again apathetic to the idea of being a part of how my food was prepared.

I graduated high school with some rudimentary outdoor cooking skills thanks to Boy Scouts (give me a Dutch Oven and I’ll make you one hell of a King Ranch Casserole - the secret is tortilla chips) and not much more. My twenties and thirties were spent in the drive-through lane more than in the kitchen. Every now and then, though, I’d get an itching to prepare a home-cooked feast. One time, I decided to boil a lobster only for my dog to snatch it off my plate before I could enjoy it myself. Ultimately, my kitchen skills were primarily limited to operating the microwave or, at the very least, half-cooking some slab of meat on a grill and hoping I didn’t give myself food poisoning.

During the pandemic, I became obsessed with cooking the perfect egg sandwich. I experimented with nearly two dozen combinations of egg, bacon and bread in search of the ideal recipe before I decided I was kind of over eggs. The less said about my experiments with sardines the better. I had taken the first steps to reentering the kitchen, though. In 2021, I started to get serious about teaching myself how to cook. I tried to replicate some of my parents’ staples - starting with easy things like spaghetti and enchiladas before attempting some trickier dishes like paella.

My flirtation with the kitchen has now cumulated in a new project - attempting to cook every single recipe in Brian Jacques’ THE REDWALL COOKBOOK. This is my JULIE & JULIA, except with mice.

If you’re not familiar with the REDWALL series of books, this lengthy children’s book series (22 novels!) follows several generations of mice, moles, rabbits, rats, and other rodents as they partake in the drudgeries of medieval life. Pillaging, adventuring, questing and monk-a-tude - all tied together by author Jacques’ wonderfully detailed descriptions of the elaborate feasts consumed by his characters. The rodents of Redwall Abbey eat extremely well and Jacques’ cookbook contains a selection of dishes featured in and inspired by the book series.

I’ve currently prepped three dishes from the cookbook - Hare’s Pawspring Vegetable Soup, Crispy Cheese ‘n’ Onion Hogbake and Brockhall Badger Carrot Cakes. I’ve also prepped a pitcher of October Ale, which is just grape juice mixed with ginger ale.

I’ve discovered that I really love following recipes in the same way I love building furniture from IKEA. I like following a detailed step-by-step guide to making something and then, when I’m done, taking a step back to appreciate what I made. At least with the REDWALL COOKBOOK, I can eat what I made. Good luck eating an IKEA bookcase.

Maybe it’s a control thing - so much of life is out of our control and so many of my plans and schemes don’t - however hard I try - come to fruition. With recipes, though, I’ve found that if you pay attention and follow the instructions laid out in front of you, it’s pretty hard to screw up. You’re going to get something tasty and you’re going to have succeeded in what you set out to do. I appreciate my wins, even if they are just a thirst-quenching glass of grape juice and ginger ale.

Accomplishments feel good. It turns out, they also taste good.

I’m looking forward to continuing to make my way through the REDWALL COOKBOOK, but I’m also excited to try new recipes. I don’t mind a vegetarian meal every now and then (it turns out, the mice aren’t cooking beef or chicken in their abbey) but I’m not sure I’m cut out for an exclusively vegetarian lifestyle. Redwall was serving some mighty fine feasts, but they really could have used a pop-up restaurant from Raccacoonie.