Encore un de foutu

I can’t learn from recipes. I have no interest whatsoever in recipe books, 95% of cookbooks. I use them sometimes, but tellingly, I only follow recipes for things I originally learned to make from recipes—in other words, things I never learned how to make, and still don’t know how to make, even after I’ve made them dozens of times. This is what recipes do to me, they make me stupid and keep me dependent. Occasionally I find the time to take a recipe I use and make something I can use out of it. For example, my mother’s “famous macaroni,” as written on the back of a Christmas card stored in the back of my 70’s Joy:

Famous Macaroni

cook (1 pound) macaronis
Toast {1 c. nutrit. yeast
{1/2 c. flour
Add 2/3 c. oil, stir while it bubbles
(coconutoil)(refined)
Add 3 c. water. stir & whisk until thickened
Add 4 tbsp. tamari
1 tsp. salt
1/4 tsp pepper
(1/2 tsp. chopped garlic)<--optional

First, let me say that this is actually good. Good, solid comfort food, that I make about twice a month—something friends always love, though I am sometimes reticent about what it's made of until after they admit as much. It is a museum piece of my cultural heritage, though it only dates back to about 1970. Not that, of course, I ever make it as written: I use much more garlic, measure poorly, and season to taste. And I'm tired of having to look it up every time I want to make such a simple sauce. So I took it apart and gave it a little thought, and here it is again like I might write it down:

Fake Mac Sauce

toast yeast and flour (2/1)
oil til smooth
water to texture
tamari, salt, pepper, garlic.

And having made the recipe into something I can understand, what it looks like in my own head:

Fake Mac = 2/1.

I think I can remember that.