...then get out of the kitchen! And I'm beginning to think I should. I don't know what exactly happened. All of the recipes I've been trying have been going so well and blogging about them has been really fun. Maybe with all the blogging feedback and positive reviews on the new dishes at recent cookouts, it started to go to my head. Maybe I got a little cocky. Maybe I haven't been concentrating enough while I'm in the kitchen. Whatever is going on, starting with yesterday's new recipe I've been on a downward spiral that carried over to tonight. I still plan on posting each of the recipes I have tried (and failed) but I thought it might be beneficial for me to do one quick wrap-up of the trial and tribulations I've had over the last two nights and then go into the specifics with each recipe in separate posts.
Last night I tried to make Grilled Double-Cheese and Bacon Sandwiches with a side of "Healthified" Cheesy Potatoes. Everything was going well until I received a phone call from Pat while grilling the sandwiches (and by grilling I mean on a griddle on the stove). He was on his way home from getting his hair cut and he was NOT happy. It takes a lot to get Pat riled up (unless you're one of his siblings, then it's quite easy) and boy was he ever riled up. The girl who cut his hair was brand new and did a really bad job. He said it was clear she had no idea what she was doing and another girl had to step in at the end to try to repair the damage. The thing about hair is, once it's gone, it's gone. No one can jump in and put it back where it was. The last thing he said to me on the phone was "Prepare yourself. It's really bad."
I wasn't quite sure what to think and was really hoping he was exaggerating. Either way, the first thing I needed to do after we got off the phone was a status update on facebook. Makes sense, right? As I was updating my status to say something like "It's never good when your husband calls you on his way home from getting his hair cut and says 'Prepare yourself. It's bad." Something along those lines (it's a moot point now anyway since he made me delete it the moment he got home). That's when I started to smell the burnt bread. OH NO! My sandwiches. Once I got to the stove, it was too late. The damage had been done. The bread of both sandwiches had been burnt to a crisp.
Right around that time Pat got home from the hair salon. I made sure to remove the sandwiches from the stove, not that it mattered. They could have lit on fire and they still would probably taste the same. I went over to check out his hair. I didn't think it looked bad at all! It was definitely shorter than he's ever had it before, but I really like it short. He disagreed with my positive assessment, "I was just trying to be nice," and immediately went to the bathroom to get his clippers to try to fix some of the damage (again, not much he could do. The hair was already gone!).
While Pat was trying to fix his hair, I decided to try one of the burnt sandwiches to determine whether or not they were edible. As I bit into the sandwich, I heard a noise in my mouth and felt something "shift." I immediately rubbed my tongue over my tooth and realized the cap was gone. I had to search around my mouth and sure enough, there was my cap. In its original condition, thank goodness. I went into the bathroom where Pat was clipping his hair, tooth in hand, and showed him what happened. He was surprised at how well I was handling the loss of the tooth and how not so well he was handling the loss of his hair (and so was I, to be honest). We both decided to just move on. There was nothing either of us could do to improve the situation(s). We were both hungry, anyway, so we might as well go eat.
You would think the loss of my tooth would deem the food inedible, right? Wrong. We ate the sandwiches anyway. They weren't good, by any means, but they weren't horrible either. They were, well, edible. Barely.
The next morning, I showed up at the dentist promptly at 8:00 a.m. when they opened. They weren't able to get me in until 10:30 a.m. and I was already late for a meeting. I asked if they could get me in at the end of the day, and they could, so I decided to just go to work toothless. No one likes walking into meetings an hour late, but I think it's even worse walking into a meeting late when you are missing a tooth (a front, clearly visible tooth). I'm either getting way too used to my teeth falling out or I'm maturing and am "sweating the small stuff" less because it wasn't nearly as bad as I thought it would be. Or maybe that's the difference. I didn't even really think about it, I just did what I had to do. I worked the entire day toothless. Only talking and smiling when I had to, of course.
I went back to the dentist at 4:30 and they fixed my tooth and I was as good as new (whatever that means)! I was charged and ready to make tonight's meal: Crispy Chicken Caesar Salad. I was talking to my friend Jen from the moment I started this recipe (which was on my computer). As I was talking to her, I was also trying to read the instructions off the computer and then walk over to the counter where I then tried to remember them. It wasn't going well. I ended up boiling an egg that wasn't supposed to be boiled and burnt the breading on the chicken (more on this later with the actual recipe). I feel as though I'm on a roll with my cooking, and not in a good way.
This whole "blog about cooking" idea was really fun when I was actually making good recipes and making them well. It's not nearly as fun (or easy) to write about the horrible mistakes and recipe botching that has been going on. But that was the deal. I promised to share the good, the bad and the ugly (and toothless) stories of me in the kitchen and I plan to keep that promise. I just hope the trend goes back to me sharing about the good rather than the bad and the ugly (and toothless).
Watch for the recipes coming soon, just in case you want to try them out for yourself. I'm sure you will do a better job.
Last night I tried to make Grilled Double-Cheese and Bacon Sandwiches with a side of "Healthified" Cheesy Potatoes. Everything was going well until I received a phone call from Pat while grilling the sandwiches (and by grilling I mean on a griddle on the stove). He was on his way home from getting his hair cut and he was NOT happy. It takes a lot to get Pat riled up (unless you're one of his siblings, then it's quite easy) and boy was he ever riled up. The girl who cut his hair was brand new and did a really bad job. He said it was clear she had no idea what she was doing and another girl had to step in at the end to try to repair the damage. The thing about hair is, once it's gone, it's gone. No one can jump in and put it back where it was. The last thing he said to me on the phone was "Prepare yourself. It's really bad."
I wasn't quite sure what to think and was really hoping he was exaggerating. Either way, the first thing I needed to do after we got off the phone was a status update on facebook. Makes sense, right? As I was updating my status to say something like "It's never good when your husband calls you on his way home from getting his hair cut and says 'Prepare yourself. It's bad." Something along those lines (it's a moot point now anyway since he made me delete it the moment he got home). That's when I started to smell the burnt bread. OH NO! My sandwiches. Once I got to the stove, it was too late. The damage had been done. The bread of both sandwiches had been burnt to a crisp.
Right around that time Pat got home from the hair salon. I made sure to remove the sandwiches from the stove, not that it mattered. They could have lit on fire and they still would probably taste the same. I went over to check out his hair. I didn't think it looked bad at all! It was definitely shorter than he's ever had it before, but I really like it short. He disagreed with my positive assessment, "I was just trying to be nice," and immediately went to the bathroom to get his clippers to try to fix some of the damage (again, not much he could do. The hair was already gone!).
While Pat was trying to fix his hair, I decided to try one of the burnt sandwiches to determine whether or not they were edible. As I bit into the sandwich, I heard a noise in my mouth and felt something "shift." I immediately rubbed my tongue over my tooth and realized the cap was gone. I had to search around my mouth and sure enough, there was my cap. In its original condition, thank goodness. I went into the bathroom where Pat was clipping his hair, tooth in hand, and showed him what happened. He was surprised at how well I was handling the loss of the tooth and how not so well he was handling the loss of his hair (and so was I, to be honest). We both decided to just move on. There was nothing either of us could do to improve the situation(s). We were both hungry, anyway, so we might as well go eat.
You would think the loss of my tooth would deem the food inedible, right? Wrong. We ate the sandwiches anyway. They weren't good, by any means, but they weren't horrible either. They were, well, edible. Barely.
The next morning, I showed up at the dentist promptly at 8:00 a.m. when they opened. They weren't able to get me in until 10:30 a.m. and I was already late for a meeting. I asked if they could get me in at the end of the day, and they could, so I decided to just go to work toothless. No one likes walking into meetings an hour late, but I think it's even worse walking into a meeting late when you are missing a tooth (a front, clearly visible tooth). I'm either getting way too used to my teeth falling out or I'm maturing and am "sweating the small stuff" less because it wasn't nearly as bad as I thought it would be. Or maybe that's the difference. I didn't even really think about it, I just did what I had to do. I worked the entire day toothless. Only talking and smiling when I had to, of course.
I went back to the dentist at 4:30 and they fixed my tooth and I was as good as new (whatever that means)! I was charged and ready to make tonight's meal: Crispy Chicken Caesar Salad. I was talking to my friend Jen from the moment I started this recipe (which was on my computer). As I was talking to her, I was also trying to read the instructions off the computer and then walk over to the counter where I then tried to remember them. It wasn't going well. I ended up boiling an egg that wasn't supposed to be boiled and burnt the breading on the chicken (more on this later with the actual recipe). I feel as though I'm on a roll with my cooking, and not in a good way.
This whole "blog about cooking" idea was really fun when I was actually making good recipes and making them well. It's not nearly as fun (or easy) to write about the horrible mistakes and recipe botching that has been going on. But that was the deal. I promised to share the good, the bad and the ugly (and toothless) stories of me in the kitchen and I plan to keep that promise. I just hope the trend goes back to me sharing about the good rather than the bad and the ugly (and toothless).
Watch for the recipes coming soon, just in case you want to try them out for yourself. I'm sure you will do a better job.
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