“Can you make dinner tonight?” she asks.
“It’s really easy,” she says.
“You CAN make dinner tonight!” she proclaimed.
I love how she does that. The picture you see is of the ingredients for some kind of turkey tetrazzini. “How’d they come all neatly packaged like that?” you ask. My wife started ordering occasional “meals” from one of those companies that supplies stuff like this. In other words, they mail a box packed with dry ice and all the ingredients one would need, along with the preparation and cooking instructions. You (or in this case I) simply (simply) throw it all together and there’s your gourmet dinner.
Side note: My trainer stopped by a few nights ago as I was “throwing one of these things together”. In addition to shaming me in every imaginable way in the physical fitness and athletics area, he’s also a gourmet cook Apparently his youth was spent studying things that would bore most teenagers but prove to be invaluable to adults looking to shame their friends. Bottom line: he didn’t laugh at my efforts but did state that he found the concept “amusing”.
Oh… so do I.
I think it’s most risible (look it up) because the instructions, which are supposed to be at the heart of the “keeping dinner simple” movement that I just invented and coined, instead seem to stress me the f out. Case in point, from the first step:
“Remove the sage leaves from the stems and separate the thyme from the stalks.”
OK, 1) stem and stalk here are practically like the same thing so don’t get all cute on me by reaching for a thesaurus. 2) Which of these two plastic cases is the thyme? Seriously, I don’t know. Is sage a leafy looking thing? Also, it put them both in the same line, same sentence, so I assumed they could be destalked into the same little dish I was using. Imagine my surprise when step 2 called for me to use the sage in a pan with the ground turkey and the thyme in a pot with chicken stock. Someone got to spend the next ten minutes picking thyme leaves (yes, I Googled a picture to know which was which) out of a dish of sage.
In the end, I am not a chef. I admire those who can cook but this is not for me. At least, it’s not for me with a sheet of poorly written directions when I’ve already had a glass of red wine. When it was all finished, my daughter and I ate our tetrazzini, which wasn’t half-bad, in front of the TV where we snuggled and watched a Christmas special. So there was that.
All in all, though, the dinner could’ve turned out like absolute crap. I’m still better off than the guy who has to wear this…
Merry Jesus Birthday from me and the cats! Granted, they’re not my cats. I don’t own any. AND mine would be way better dressed.