anyone can cook

Maxim of the fictional Chef Gusteau in Pixar's "Ratatouille," the encapsulated message of the film, conveyed lovingly and convincingly throughout its course, then unpacked with unapologetic overstatement in its final scenes. "Not everyone can become a great artist," explains the converted food critic, Anton Ego, "but a great artist can come from anywhere."

This post is not about "Ratatouille," or artistry at all for that matter. Quite the opposite. I write this post because the event which prompted it struck me in a way that recalled the line with the most perfect, happy irony that I wanted to share.

The event was this: last month, my friend Nathan (pictured) came home from a two week holiday with The Trader Joe's Cookbook and began to cook from it.

I should explain that Nathan is a PA for a reality TV show, which, at times, is literally the shittiest job in Hollywood. (Once, my boyfriend had to clean up dog shit and then spread it around a lawn in a "more random distribution" so that the shows producers could film a midget cleaning it up.) The days are long, the pay sucks, and there's little mobility.

Before the book, my friend was a burger and pizza kind of guy, when my friend he said that he was making dinner it usually meant that he was heating up a bag of frozen orange chicken from the market. Of course, there's nothing wrong with this for the poor and overworked, such as we are, other than a general lack of nutrition. At the end of a 12-hour day, the time and energy of shopping and cooking, and the cost of fresh ingredients, often make preparing a meal much too great of an undertaking.

Then came the book, to which I'm reluctant to attribute Nathan's change; it seems oddly religious, in a 12-step program way. But the results speak for themselves: first, he made pesto pita pizzas and monkey bread, then rice pudding, then macadamia-crusted mahi mahi with mango salsa and coconut rice. And oh such coconut rice!

Again, this is not to imply that The Trader Joe's Cookbook has transformed my friend into a gourmet. Rather, the philosophy of the book seems to be that anyone can combine ingredients in a prescribed order, "anyone can cook." And that works for Nathan.

The TJC offers a nice assortment of recipes, with all the ingredients available at a single store. Most take about 15 minutes to prepare, and none involve anything resembling technique. Rereading this I realize it sounds like a small ploy to get people to buy the Trader Joe's cookbook, but I assure you I am not getting paid to write this. If I were, I could probably afford to shop elsewhere. And again, I assure you I cannot. (Reese's Puffs Cereal is a huge splurge for me.)

Below is a picture of Nathan's mahi mahi. It looks tasty, and it was. I think, actually that that was the happy ironic experience that prompted this post, actually tasting Nathan's food. Because we were all skeptical, and the fish was so thoroughly edible, we all had a simultaneous ah ha moment: Nathan can cook. ANYONE can cook.