Cooking with Julia (my) Child

Cooking with Julia (my) Child:
A Pecorino Pecadillo

On a recent trip to Toronto to visit my daughter Julia, she suggested that we share the cooking for the week. She proposed that we treat each other to our favourite supper specialties thereby broadening each of our cooking repertoires. Great idea!

Julia, My Child

She had supper prepared the day I arrived—lightly-breaded cod, baked squash and bruised greens. Delicious. Cooked to perfection and served with a smile!

Lightly-Breaded Cod, Baked Squash,
Bruised Greens

That evening, before tucking into bed, Julia reminded me that it would be my turn to make supper the next day. She informed me that she had fallen heir to a large chunk of pecorino cheese which had been mistakenly delivered to her workplace. “Maybe you can make something with that, Mom.”

Free Pecorino

As Aficionado of the Rotten Food Rack, First Lady of the Food Bargain and Renovator of any Recipe, my heart swelled with pride. My little Julia had taken advantage of a food freebie. Not only that, but she had adopted my meal-planning practice which is driven by what’s on sale as opposed to what you want to eat. It seemed she had inherited some of my frugality, after all.  

Swelling with Pride

I had never made anything with pecorino but having a three-pound chunk of free cheese at my fingertips was downright inspiring. I found a recipe online, tagliatelle pasta at a local shop, and "close-enough" substitutions for all the other ingredients on the Rotten Food Rack.  

Pasta with Pecorino and Pepper

In my online recipe search, I learned that pecorino is made with ewe’s milk. I shared that fact with Julia the next day as we were digging into our Pasta with Pecorino and Pepper. She stopped her fork in midair, a look of disgust on her face. Her expression took me back a few years. 

Julia: Expressing her Opinion

“Used milk!! Mom!! Gross! I’m not eating used milk.”

I was taken aback. Julia had grown into an adventuresome eater over the years.

“What do you have against ewe’s milk, Julia? Have you even tried it before?”

“Look, Mom, I know you love bargains and the RFR, but used milk is just too much. I’m NOT eating it. You’ve crossed the line this time.” She rested her fork on the edge of her plate and folded her arms across her chest.

“Julia, you eat feta, you eat goat cheese. What’s the difference? What do you have against an ewe?”

“An ewe?” She raised her eyebrows. Pause. “Oh, ewe’s milk. I thought you were saying used milk. Now I understand. Sorry, Mom.” She picked up her fork and dug in thus resolving our pecorino peccadillo.

An Ewe

...Until Next Time...