When "Making Do" becomes "Making Better"

“We’ll just have to ‘make do,” is a southern expression, often expressed with a mixture of resignation (sigh, wish we had the real stuff) and overpuffed optimism (“you’ll see, it will turn out OK”). I grew up with “make do.” The other kids in the neighborhood had X (Wallabee or Docksider shoes, cool pastel shirts, etc.), and my mom’s strategy — because she had a strong ideology back then when I was young — was to do it homemade. Other kids had these beautiful tie-dyed shirts purchased at a premium (It was the late 60s), mom took us on an adventure to make our own. The other kids had this cool play-toy called “clackers.” Mom had a set of epoxies and molds, and we made our own. You get the idea: Like the Eddie Murphy sketch in Raw, I just wanted a McDonald’s hamburger and mom was making burgers way better than McDonald’s (or not, depending on your viewpoint). But I digress.

In our soul food kitchen, I use a modest quantity (that’s southern for “a shit load”) of cayenne pepper. It is a critical ingredient in my seasoned flour, that serves as the basis for fried green tomatoes, fried cauliflower, fried chicken, pretty much anything fried. It is also a key ingredient in my cajun shrimp. I use it liberally when I make up our various bbq sauces. And so on. LIke I said, I use cayenne pepper rather liberally.

Which is a problem. On my white board just outside my Can’t-Stand-the Heat Kitchen is a list of all the shit I need to keep an eye on, buy, or prep. For weeks, prominent on that list has been to buy cayenne pepper. Which is not all that easy to find in Tel Aviv. Only 1 store that I know of carries it consistently, but supplies are always a bit iffy. So finally, I decided to make my own: Chile de Arbol (similar to cayenne) ground up. That simple.

The flavor is amazing. Much better than the store-bought bottled version. I think my mom would feel vindicated, like she had finally taught me a critical life lesson.