The Careless Cook and The Galloping Gourmet

I’m not exactly sure how I began watching the television show The Galloping Gourmet starring Graham Kerr. I remember nothing about the dishes that he prepared, and then I probably wouldn’t have prepared or eaten any of the dishes he cooked on the show—at the moment I was becoming vegetarian and was always a bit squeamish about food put on the table, but I was heartily impressed and enthusiastically influenced by the glass of wine that always accompanied his cooking. He seemed to float about the kitchen, decidedly delighted, to be so happily engaged in the preparation of dinner and always accompanied by the presence of a glass on the countertop of what I assumed was a fine and not inexpensive wine. And then, when the meal was all cooked the show would conclude with Kerr dancing into the audience and grasping someone by the hand and inviting them to share the food and the wine with him. He would carefully fill the plate and the wine glass for his dinner companion.

            I recall this show now as I consider that if I were to host a cooking show I would be compelled to entitle it The Careless Cook. I prepare all of my vegetarian meals and always following a recipe but not carefully adhering to the directions. A ½ tsp of salt? Well, I like salt, so how about a whole tsp! Whoops, forgot the thyme. After forty-five minutes pull the polenta out of oven and add ricotta and parmesan cheese and put back in the oven until the top browns—about fifteen minutes. Well, that doesn’t quite occur in the time set . . . how about if I broil it a bit. Oh my, now it has burned but I think it will still be quite edible! What the Galloping Gourmet and I have in common is the delight I experience in the kitchen cooking and the glass of wine (or single malt scotch) that accompanies the process. And sometimes a the end I, too, floati nto the audience and invite a viewer to dine with me! 

            I think for me cooking represents not the anticipation of the feast but a transition from the day to the evening. Cooking signals that the workday, such as it has been, once in my classrooms and now outside of them, is for now concluded. Once, I reached into the audience and grabbed the hands of my daughters and invite them to the table. For the most part they acceded and even at times welcomed the moments. I was by them especially noted for my cabbage and cheese pie, my macaroni and cheese, and any pasta accompanied with green peas. My pizzas were always welcome! There were always some carelessly prepared dishes—I recall one sloppy joe meal that ended a bit too pinkish for one of the invited guests to sample—but I have fed not a few welcome diners and enjoyed many an evening accompanied by great conversation and  bottles of wine. I have over the years continually expanded my cooking repertoire though not commensurately improved my technique: it remains today a bit cavalier and decidedly careless, but I am fortunate that my guests don’t seem much to care!  For almost 35 years I have baked most of the breads, muffins and scones that we consumed despite the often failure of the doughs to rise appropriately—but there were few complaints regardless of the results that were as I said not always fortunate. Now in my retirement, preparation of dinner marks what might be considered the conclusion of the serious moments of the day of writing and study (such as either might be), and a time to settle into the wine, the scotch and the novels I am reading and not studying.

Like Clarabelle, Buffalo Bob and Howdy Doody, Pinky Lee and Captain Kangaroo, the Galloping Gourmet has left his mark. (So many male models: no wonder I’ve had issues!) But I enjoy my kitchen and the food that I prepare there without too much regard to rigor or recipe. I think it is the ritual I enjoy . . . and as I learned from Graham Kerr, of course always accompanied by wine! I would be known as the careless Cook, avoiding the undeserved title of gourmet, and continue to reach my hand into the audience for a guest for dinner.