Roux: The knee bone's connected to the taste buds

I put the Bolognese sauce on to simmer, sat down to compose a long overdue email, and gradually realized it was way past time to find the discipline required to face a blank page. It was not that I lacked ideas.

Since I signed off writing the column back in June to face knee replacement surgery, I have kept notes. Bits of paper and little tablets everywhere are covered with scribbles. There has been a wealth of life-changing experiences and revelations, and I have had plenty of time to lie on the couch and think.

After two surgeries (yes, there were complications), I could, and at some future time will, write about my journey into the world of modern health care. Some of it was not pretty.

School is back in session. Our student population is up. My classes are shaping together quite nicely, although I spend a great deal of time standing on one leg. I have accepted the job as president of the Franklin County Teacher's Association. Union business consumes hours.

State politics offers some excitement. The upcoming session of the legislature promises the resurgence of last year's assaults on teachers and other public employees. More on that later.

For now, I am a little concerned about the Bolognese. It seems a bit sour, and I'm tempted to add some sugar, although I have strictly adhered to the recipe up to this point. My culinary efforts today are the direct result of watching over eight weeks of basic cable television.

Coincidentally, the offerings in the hospital almost exactly duplicated the set of channels on my set at home. Before this summer I rarely watched regular TV, relying instead on Netflix to keep me supplied with movies and series like “The Tudors,” “Rome,” “Mad Men,” “30 Rock,” “Duchess of Duke Street,” “Hotel Babylon,” and “Entourage.”

I spent at least three hours a day with my leg strapped into an automatic motion machine staring at the tube for distraction, and Netflix couldn't keep up with that schedule.

I discovered a strange world of silly and bizarre competitions. In addition, there must be some mass appetite for trashy people yelling at each other. There are at least three programs featuring petulant brides and that's not even counting the wedding cake contests. Kids of all ages can watch cartoons anytime they desire, not just on Saturday mornings. I soon narrowed down what I could tolerate to the Food Network and the Travel Channel.

Even those two frequently fell prey to sensationalism and just plain bad taste. No pun intended.

I see little entertainment value in watching people lose contests. Are viewers hoping to see a tear? That quickly eliminated most of the prime time offerings on the Food Network. The shows “Throwdown! with Bobby Flay” and “Chopped” made me cringe. I liked “Barefoot Contessa,” Rachael Ray, and Paula Deen. I could watch the Neelys if I kept the volume off. I just didn't trust the recipes on any of the programs. Their pinch of salt looked like a good tablespoon to me, and a quarter-cup of mayo was surely more like two-thirds of a cup. I did pick up some ideas, though. Rachael's caramelized onions and heavy cream tossed with penne pasta and served with pork chops will turn up on my table one winter night.

The redeeming feature of the Travel Channel is “Anthony Bourdain: No Reservations.” He states, “I write, I travel, I eat, and I'm hungry for more.” Sounds like the perfect life. I've been a fan since I read his underbelly view of the restaurant business in the book “Kitchen Confidential.” Occasionally I would stumble onto back-to-back episodes. Bourdain's irreverence and open-minded view of food and people literally kept me entertained for hours.

I had plenty of time to rethink my recent practices toward food and cooking. For the past few years we have kept the kitchen and fridge stocked, but we rarely did any serious cooking. Steaks, Stouffer's stuffed green peppers, Asian take-out, and hot dogs provided sustenance if not joy.

With Bolognese in hand, I will attempt to recreate a taste memory from close to 30 years ago. The cooks called it lasagna, but it was like nothing I had ever experienced. Paper-thin layers of pasta were bathed in a pinkish tomato sauce laced with only a small amount of beef. No mozzarella and no ricotta. It was surprisingly divine.

My cookbook quest over the summer revealed a recipe I think is similar. Besides the Bolognese, there is a white sauce. I am using egg roll wrappers for the fresh pasta, and I purchased a block of fresh parmesan to grate over the top. We are going to have a real sit-down Sunday supper.

This all may seem trivial, but I suspect that my long and ongoing recuperation will result in more than just a change in my attitude toward cooking. Thanks for your patience.

Denise Roux is a regular columnist for the Apalachicola and Carrabelle Times. To reach her, email her at rouxwhit@mchsi.com