Blame Blame, Whose to Blame…

This past week we all heard about the tragic death of Whitney Houston. So young, so gifted, what a waste to die at age 48. The news coverage was laden with who was responsible for her untimely death. Was it bad boy Bobby Brown who took the naive young princess and turned her into a wacked out crack head?  Was it the music industry more intent on selling records than on the health and welfare of a human being? Or was it Whitney herself who some claim was a “party girl” and merely showing more of her true self as time went on?

The more I heard these questions the more aggravated I became. Until the toxicology reports come back we will not have a definitive answer. But once again this situation sadly shows what the culture in this country has truly become – one of inability for taking personal responsibility. It’s always someone else’s fault, right? The doctors who prescribed the medication, the entourage comprised of “yes” people who let her drink and party, the drug dealers who provided her drugs and on and on until I literally want to puke. In reality if blame must be assigned look no further than Whitney Houston herself.

I attended a transformational training session about six years ago conducted by a man named Ted Willey who wrote the book “The Power of Choice” (a link to this book is at the bottom of this blog). Through laughter and innuendo he held up the mirror to everyone in the room and challenged them to take personal responsibility with a simple statement – “You are the product of the choices you make”, period. Sadly we have forgotten in our society how to be 100% responsible and to take 100% responsibility for our actions. Just break down the pronunciation of word responsible and you will get response “able”. Not response impaired, not response sometimes, but response “able”, able to take full responsibility for whatever choices in life we make. If you choose to eat more calories than you expend you will gain weight, period.  It’s not the fast food industry’s fault for not posting nutritional information in its restaurants. You made the conscious choice to put the food in our mouth and not exercise. If you get burned by spilling hot coffee on yourself it’s not McDonalds’ fault for not putting “caution this is hot” on the outside of the coffee cup. You spilled it on yourself and it was hot, period.  If you are late for work it’s not because the snow caused a major traffic jam. You made the conscious choice not to leave early enough to get to work on time, period. Plain and simple – we are the product of the choices we make.

Anyone who is an artist is plagued by insecurity and self doubt. Anyone in the Arts knows that to be true. It is one of the major factors that drives people to the Arts in the first place. Through theatre, dance, music, and all other forms, artists can transform themselves, if only for a short while, into something that they believe they are not and could never be. Through performing artists get the adulation and affirmation they seek by often becoming someone that is so far from the core of who they really are. It is both a blessing and a curse. To find a outlet that creates a reality so different from your own self image is a high all onto itself. The downside comes if you continue to question whether you are good enough or talented enough to continually perform at a high caliber. That was probably the downfall of Whitney Houston. To hear Kevin Costner relate how she questioned her talent and beauty when doing a screen test for The Bodyguard was heart wrenching. Her talent was once in a lifetime and her beauty was second to none. Too bad she could not see it or believe it for herself.

But regardless of that, she made the conscious choice to turn to drugs to relieve her pain and insecurities. No one held her mouth open and poured the pills down her throat.  No one forced her to inhale cigarette smoke and party well into the night. She was responsible for how she treated her body. It was no one’s fault but her own.

Who’d Of Thought…

Some sort of meat, potatoes, peas or corn (always overcooked) and some lettuce with Catalina or Thousand Island Dressing – that was basically the food I grew up on. We never had rice, pizza, lamb or zucchini much less any type of ethnic food other than Polish or Lithuanian dishes. Heck, I never even knew other ethnic dishes existed until I was much older. And of course there were no spices and hardly ever any onions, my father thought he couldn’t tolerate them. And definitely never any garlic – my father was sure it was the bane of any stomach issues he would experience – “They must have put garlic in it!” is what he used to say. My palate was basically remedial-to-none for a very long time and my cooking skills were absolutely zilch. My mother never liked to cook so I guess the thought never occurred to her that I should learn or that she should be the one to teach me.

Early on in my working career I worked a later shift, 1:30 p.m. – 10:00 p.m., so when I got married my husband took on most of the cooking chores. He being the oldest of five children was a great cook and he introduced me to many of the types of foods that I thought I hated but truly enjoy today – brussels sprouts, butternut squash, eggplant and avocado just to name of few. He introduced me to foods of various ethnicities but even with that I could not eat refried beans for many years – it looked like baby poop to me. It wound up that he did most of the cooking and my culinary prowess for many years consisted of Christmas cookies and scrambled eggs and bacon. I could also make a mean pot of coffee but that was basically it.

Fast forward to today and my sojourn into the cooking realm has done a complete 180. It all started innocently enough with a luncheon conversation with a friend. Somehow the subject turned to television viewing habits and she informed me that she was a Food Network junkie. I almost fell on the floor laughing. After all who could spend any amount of time watching people cook – how ridiculous. Then one Saturday morning for a lark I turned on my television and cranked up the Food Network. Rachel Ray was doing 30 Minute Meals. OK, I said to myself, it should take about 30 seconds before I grab for the remote.

To my amazement I didn’t. I actually found the subject matter interesting. After Rachel there was semi-homemade with Sandra Lee, then Ina Garten, Robin Miller and Giada DeLaurentis. Before I knew it I was hooked. Week after week I would watch and in the process began to learn all the things that normally get passed down from mother to daughter (I still love you, mom, don’t worry!).  Things like how to cut an avocado, how to sear meat, the importance of letting roasts rest, the best way to dice an onion, how to make a roux, the delights of a gratin, perfect pastry dough, how to make risotto, knife handling skills, the marvels of the crock pot – this whole new world opened up to me. And as my interest grew so did my culinary skills. From roasting to grilling, sauteing, braising, slow cooking – whatever the process would be – I was eager to learn it and eager to master it. Who’d of ever thought I’d be cooking with capers or creme fraiche. Ever hear of tahini paste? Neither did I until I made my own homemade hummus. I never knew panko bread crumbs or okra existed  – I do now. Make your own pesto – why sure, but what is it?  I know now and I make it now. It’s a whole new world.

For Christmas my husband gave me a gift certificate for cooking classes. I took the first one a few weeks ago. It was fabulous – I learned a lot and found out that I also knew a lot. But the greatest part of all was when I was leaving to take the class. My husband remarked as I walked out the door, “I hope you can teach them something.” I then new I had arrived.

In the spirit of sharing I will share one of my favorite new recipes. Make it – you won’t regret it!

Crock Pot Jambalaya