How to Be A Domestic Goddess (Or Just Look Like One)

Ricky: (Referring to the Ricardo’s apartment) It’s a regular pig-pen in here!

Lucy: It ain’t a regular one, but it’ll do.

Back in Lucy’s day, women were judged by the cleanliness of their home and the quality of their pot roast. I’m not too worried about anyone giving my apartment the white glove test or testing my bread-baking skills, but the pressure is still on: Whether it’s Martha Stewart telling me to vacuum my ceiling (seriously?) or Giada De Laurentiis implying that I'm a bad hostess for not stuffing and deep frying olives as appetizers for my guests, our society sends much the same message to women today.

Lucy was as interested in keeping up appearances as anybody, but she wasn't about to let the drudgery of housework get in the way of far more fascinating pursuits...particularly when there were shortcuts to be found. In Episode 178, "Lucy Raises Tulips," Lucy has her heart set on winning the Garden Club's prize for best-looking garden, an award nosy neighbor Betty Ramsay has won for the past three years. When a lawnmower gone mad destroys both Lucy and Betty's gardens right before judging time, Lucy simply repopulates the flower beds with wax tulips. Too bad about that noonday sun...

Back to the vile practice of judging women by their level of domestic prowess. Lucy thumbed her nose at the notion that performing menial tasks with a sense of obligatory zeal made a woman noble or worthy. None of that brainwashing was going to mess with her priorities. In Episode 25, "Pioneer Women," Lucy and Ethel want to join the Society Matron's League and fear that their dishpan hands will be a turn-off. Justifiably, they ask Ricky and Fred for dishwashers. Naturally, this kicks off a battle-of-the-sexes type contest (who can go without modern conveniences longest, the girls or boys?). This episode is probably best known for the 18-foot loaf of homemade bread which ends up bursting out of the Ricardos' oven, but one of my favorite moments was when Ethel disproved the "do-it-yourself and save money" myth by spending over $20 in her effort to churn one measly pat of butter.

I've had more experiences like this one than I care to admit (as their repetition suggests a stubborn streak I pretend not to have), but I finally learned my lesson trying to recreate an authentic Korean restaurant dish, japchae, at home. The main ingredients were cellophane noodles and very, very thinly julienned vegetables, the first of which I'd never cooked before, the second of which I'd never pulled off successfully. An hour or so into the project, the over-soaked noodles were spilling over every surface in my kitchen like so many gluey, transparent worms; thanks to the brand-new mandolin I didn't know how to use, blood was spattered on the floor and smeared on dishtowels.

Believe me when I tell you there's nothing like julienned fingers to cure you of culinary ambition.

Now, when asked to produce a challenging meal, I do what I believe Lucy would do...I order take-out. (And say I made it.)