The art of the Kari Sue special

This never fails to make me giggle (stolen from Twitter with attribution, but not permission):

I love it because it reminds me of my mom (both the baking AND the cooking part). If you were at my mom's funeral service, you might remember my mentioning that my mother was a talented cook and baker. She was especially good at freestyle cooking from whatever was available. Mom had the uncanny ability to concoct a tasty dinner, somehow, from a patchwork of pantry scraps, miscellaneous stuff from the crisper bin, and that one lonely olive floating in a jar of brine in the back of the fridge. These were usually dubbed "Kari Sue specials" and served up with the comment, "Enjoy! I don't remember what went into it, so I'm never making it again." Most of the time they were at least tasty; occasionally they were inspired.

There was a time when I thought I'd never be able to cook like my mom, just making it up without a recipe. I could make recipes competently from a cookbook, but I was scared to try anything else. But here's the interesting thing about cooking regularly, even straight from the cookbook -- as you cook many kinds of recipes, you start to take in some of the rules of cooking alchemy. You begin to notice the similarities between recipes, how many start with "in a saucepan, sauté onion and garlic over medium heat." You notice that "eating your colors" isn't just healthier, but makes a plate of food look more attractive and appetizing. You know how particular foodstuffs have to be prepared if you want them to turn out a certain way. And you start mentally timing how long different foods need to cook, and at what temperature, so that they'll all be ready at the same time. (This is one I still struggle with, for what it's worth).

Then one day you may take your first step away from the cookbook. It'll probably be on a day when you're pressed for time, and halfway through cooking the recipe you realize that someone finished off the potatoes. No mashed potatoes to serve with your main course. So in desperation you boil some pasta instead, toss it with a little butter and serve it. Or you might cook up some grits, or broil some bread with garlic butter, or come up with some other kind of alternate starch on the go. And it's delicious. Maybe better than what you'd planned. Congratulations; you've just stepped into the larger world of cooking by the seat of your pants.

All this came to mind because tonight I'm kinda making a Kari Sue special. I had an actual recipe in mind, a three-ingredient sweet-and-sour meatball thing made in the slow cooker. It called for two pounds of meatballs, 1 1/2 cups of grape jelly, and 12 ounces of chili sauce.

I'd waited a little longer than I should have to start dinner in the slow cooker, so I grabbed a bag of frozen IKEA meatballs (1 kilo or 2.2 pounds, close enough) and threw them in the crock. Immediately set the crock to high heat to make up for lost time. I then threw in as much grape jelly as we had left, a bit less than a cup, then poured a bit of hot water into the jelly jar, screwed on the lid, shake shake shake for about a minute, then tossed the jelly-infused liquid into the crock.

Still not quite enough jelly. What else, what else? I shuffled through the fridge and came across some of the marionberry syrup my friend Tara (hi Tara!) made for me last Christmas. In it went.

Now for the chili sauce. I didn't have any. I didn't want to go to the store. What could I use instead? Well, from past experience I know chili sauce tastes a lot like spicy ketchup. Did we have ketchup? Yes we did, but not quite enough. Well, time to use up what we have. I squeezed in the dregs of two bottles of ketchup, did the ketchup-water thing to get every last bit out, and started thinking about how to add the "spicy" part of the equation. Well, hello there, sriracha sauce! A few healthy zig-zags across the crock should do it. Oh, and a quarter of a bottle of bibimbap sauce left over from my latest Korean food experiment -- it's sorta ketchuppy and definitely spicy. In went the rest of that, plus the hot water treatment to flush out every bit of flavor.

Heat. Stir. Taste.

Oh. That's GOOD. Better than it has any right to be, honestly.

The meatballs have been burbling away for a while now. I'd probably throw chopped green onions over the top, if I had any, but I used them all up the other day. I could use chives instead if I had some, or a sautéed leek if I had one, or even a regular ol' yellow onion cut up small and cooked for a while with the meatballs. The point of this meal is to use what's on hand. So I think what I'll do is sprinkle it with sesame seeds at the finish, serve it over rustic mashed potatoes ("rustic" = don't bother to peel the skins), with a side of cooked carrots and peas tossed with a little butter. I'd prefer broccoli or bok choy as a side, but again, I'm working with what's on hand.

Inspired? Ehh, not s'much. Tasty? Probably. Would Kari Sue approve? Dunno, but I'm avoiding food waste, so she'd probably be pleased. Plus we're not throwing in the towel and buying fast food instead. And hey, I've now gotten rid of four almost-empty bottles of condiments/preserves that have been hanging around the fridge for months!

(Note to self: buy more ketchup.)

ETA: after perusing the fridge, I've changed my mind again. The carrots will keep for a while; this cucumber in the crisper bin won't. So we're having a simple cucumber and tomato salad with ripe San Marzano tomatoes from Julia's garden (hi Julia!) and a good sprinkle of Montreal steak seasoning. AND some peas, because yum, peas.

ETA2: nom! Potatoes and peas, both excellent. Salad was tasty. Captain Midnight tasted the meatball sauce and added a leeetle balsamic vinegar to give it a bit more of a sour note. Approved.