Macho Chef: Souped-up

Back in the day when I had no idea how fragile the human body actually was, all I could think of was how to convince Lisa from my

11th grade history class that it was her destiny to teach me how to properly French kiss.

Rather than being a safe and conscientious young man,I spent a lot of time doing stupid things behind the steering wheels of a variety of used cars.  Sure, people called the cars junk, but I was one of those kids who used the latest JC Whitney's Auto Parts Catalog and a little inspiration from old reruns of The Dukes of Hazzard, to transform that piece of junk into a dream machine that would make the girls swoon, make the cops wary, and bring me the respect of all my friends.  Or so I thought.

Every kid goes through adolescence with that same pattern of ignoring their family and establishing an allegiance with whatever peer group matches a

person's interests, shares with them a collection of unsupported prejudices, and provides them with the best opportunity to impress the opposite sex.  When I was a teenager, I didn't have the talent for athletics, music, drama, or the money and influence of the E! Magazine wannabes of the face crowd.

This left the motorheads as the crowd of last resort.  The motorheads were the guys who were always working on their cars (or their girlfriend's car).   We claimed we did it because we enjoyed it, but we were actually keeping the hood up all the time because the car was often barely a piece of crud with an engine.

As a young man, I couldn't compare my purchasing power with those young people who managed to obtain brand new Chevy S-10s, or Firebirds, or Mustangs.  I had no indulgent parents to bestow a car upon their silver spoon-fed kid.  I had to tool around town in something that was 15 years old and cost me less than $400.  And while your pool of available girlfriends didn't include the cheerleaders, there were enough pretty ladies out there looking for a guy to keep their car running that you didn't lack for a date to the latest social event.

I would cruise the strip in a classic Plymouth Barracuda, circa 1966.  Men and women alike would stop to admire my car, and I would feel as cool as a 17-year old ignorant chucklehead can feel as I rumbled up and down Main Street in the nightly idiot parade of young people living out the pop culture dream.

But once you grow up, the realities of adulthood force you to sell the classic muscle car and start driving something sensible, like a used compact nerdmobile.

And once you get married and kids come into the picture, you upgrade to the ultimate symbol of unhip dweebness, the used SUV.

I love my old Outback.

Sure, it looks like a moldy wedge of cheesecake, and the suspension is so shot that it sways down the road like a drunk making a beeline for the bathroom, but I can load Mrs. Chef and the two yard monkeys in that boxy little vehicle and zoom (okay maybe its more like putt-putting) off to the economy matinee at the Century Theatre on any Sunday we want.

Instead of a dude, I've become a dad.

But some things haven't changed.  I may be deluding myself, but I think the fact I can still reach into a ton of carefully engineered metal just to keep an engine kicking over for a few more months actually impresses Mrs. Chef.

One of these days, when I'm rich and famous and have too much leisure time, I'll spend the money on an old classic automobile, something with a wild animal in the name, and I will restore it to its full glory.  And maybe then I can regain a little of that youthful pride I once held when I cruised around town in my tricked out ride.

Souped Up New Potatoes

WHAT YOU NEED

4 teaspoons of powdered beef bouillon

3 tablespoons of dried minced onion

1 teaspoon of onion powder

2 pounds of red potatoes, quartered

1/3 cup of olive oil

WHAT YOU DO

1. Preheat oven to 450 degrees F (230 degrees C).

2. Mix the bouillon, minced onion, and onion powder.

3.  In a large plastic bag, combine the dried ingredients, red potatoes and olive oil. Close the bag, and shake it until the potatoes are fully coated.

4. Pour the potatoes into a medium baking dish and bake for 40 minutes in the preheated oven, stirring occasionally.