My wife is out with her mom, visiting a sick relative in the hospital. So, basically it’s just me with #1 and #2, hanging tough for the day. No problem. First, we get ourselves together and head to the park for some fun. Today was one of those beautiful days where the sun was out, no clouds in the sky and the temperature was cool, but not cold. Then, we head to Miller’s Farm for some homemade ice cream. Afterwards, we head over to Whole Foods to replenish some staple foods in the house. It’s starting to get late, so I decide to make the ladies some dinner and greet my wife with a great meal to round out the day.
I head over to my wife’s favorite food blog, The Post Punk Kitchen, and pick out a recipe I figure I can do. I look at the ingredients and realize I have a problem – I know we’re missing some items, however, I press on because you know – it’s the Brooklyn way. One item the recipe called for was breadcrumbs. Cool. I’m sure we have some in the pantry. I search around and around and around and realize – no breadcrumbs. Drat. I’ll just use some oatmeal – check. White wine is also called for. No problem, I know we have some around the house. I look around and around and around – no white wine. (sigh) – I find some red cooking Sherry – check.
I start the process of chopping up some sweet potatoes for mash, the onions, scallions, garlic, etc. I’m feeling good. The kids are preoccupied with either Dora or Nemo and leaving me alone. The cat and dog are in their separate corners and again – leaving me in peace. I start to boil the sweet potatoes and sautee the onions, garlic and scallions. I mix in the oatmeal, sherry, etc. and put it on a higher heat. Now a brotha is doing a little “Yeah, I’m that dude cooking a sophisticated meal – looking like a hero! Yeah, boooyeee!” dance in the kitchen.
So, now it’s taste testing time. I take a small scoop with the wooden spoon and put it to my lips. (slurp)
I don’t know what hit me first, the sensation of me about to pass out or the realization that I had concocted a concoction so disgusting it could be classified as a biological weapon. Nothing about that flavor palette mixed in any way that could be described as edible. Listen, I can cook relatively traditional foods, but my skill set gets a little muddy outside of that box. I can do more than Shells & Velveeta but this was way off my beaten path and I almost paid the price.
By this point my wife had come home and is in the bedroom with the baby. Like a dog with a tail between my legs, I tell her the whole sordid story. She didn’t laugh in my face, but her eyes did all the laughing needed. She gave me a couple of quick and dirty ideas and I dragged my heavy heart back to the kitchen to get back in my lane.
It was an experiment gone wrong and fortunately I’m the only one that got burnt or has to live with the taste of that culinary disaster burned into my taste buds I will try another dish another day, but for the time-being…. I’m leaving all that fancy stuff to the cooking expert that I’m related to by marriage.
-G-Man… out. And thankfully still living.