Like many other impulsive disasters in my life, this cooking nightmare started off with a caffeine overdose. Having run out of what I thought was an endless supply of soggy Subway sandwiches purchased days before, I was forced to make a decision; go out to eat or starve. However, another possibility suddenly entered my head, and I laughed psychotically as I brought up my web browser. I would cook tonight!
Oh the possibilities! "This promises to be fun!", I said to my cat as I scrolled through endless recipes on the internet. I decided upon an extremely well-rated pot-pie, and sent it to my iPhone before barreling down the stairs of my apartment and out to my luxurious Honda Civic.
I put my headphones on to avoid the inevitable social invasion from the "special people" next door, and took off for the closest supermarket. Upon arriving at my destination I looked around in wonder at the 50 aisles full of items that would probably either kill me, or kill my bank account balance, or both.
Since single gentlemen such as myself are not equipped with "life skills", I spent the better part of 40 minutes searching for the ingredients to my epic pot pie. Milk? No problem! Butter? Do they mean real butter or that stuff in the tub or vegetable oil? Whatever. How about "Celery Seed"? What the hell is that??? Six Dollars! Wow, that's more than a Subway sandwich!
Angry as I was, I forced myself to buy all the silly items listed on the recipe, and after checking out did a victory lap around the parking lot to celebrate my success. Of course no supermarket visit is complete without yelling kids, cranky old ladies, and broken self-checkouts.
Arriving home I was already starting to realize that I had spent more money and time on the pot pie BEFORE I even cooked it than it was worth. I started counting off how many Subway sandwiches I could have bought, but I smacked myself in the head. This was a MISSION, and I WOULD follow through or die trying!
After watching a few periods of Olympic hockey, it was time to get to work. The recipe listed the preparation time as "20 minutes", and suggested that I pre-heat the oven to 375 degrees before getting started. I happily complied and started the task of cutting vegetables. 20 minutes later I was done cutting carrots, but still had onions, potatoes, raw chicken to go! One hour later, I was finally finished, and started thinking about how much money the pre-heated oven was costing me. I turned it off, knowing this would be a long day.
Next I was instructed to boil all the vegetables and chicken in water. Of course it took 15 minutes just for the stupid water to START boiling! Arrrgh! Of course I didn't have a lid for the saucepan, so the steam went all over my apartment, creating some kind of jungle atmosphere. By the time I was dong boiling the vegetables, I'm pretty sure I spotted an anaconda snake slithering behind my sofa. Perhaps he could help me cook, because I was already getting tired of it.
But back to the task at hand. It was time to move on to the next stage. I was supposed to drain the vegetables, which I successfully did with some kind of microwave cover plastic thingy that had holes in it. In the meantime I was supposed to cook some onions in butter. Hah! That sounded easy enough. After the onions became "translucent", I mixed in flour, salt, pepper, and that damned celery seed that cost me $6! I cursed at the celery seed and told him that he better taste damn good or I was sending him to the supermarket headquarters for a refund. Of course the celery seed just laughed at me, knowing his flavorful effects upon the pot pie were a concept a barbarian such as myself could never understand.
Success! The "sauce" appeared to be ready, as did the giant plastic microwave cover full of vegetables and chicken. I was now to put both into the pie crust. Of course I don't know anything about pie crusts, and the first one broke in half while I attempted to remove it from the tin foil it came packaged in. Even though I bought the biggest pot pie pan I could find, the mixture of vegetables, chicken, and sauce spilled over the top and turned my stove into a milky swimming pool. I cursed and threw my Red Bull across the room. At this point I didn't even care anymore.
I put the stupid pot pie in the stove which (oh crap!) was not preheated because I totally forgot about it. Yeah, that's because the damn preparation time was 2 hours, not 20 minutes! "Whatever", I said. I preheated the damn oven, and put the pot pie in there. 40 minutes later I was still cleaning up the kitchen which now resembled the set of Terminator 2.
I took the pot pie out of the oven, and it didn't look bad. I waited for the "10 minute cool-down" period to end, and scooped some of it onto a plate. It was pretty tasty, except the potatoes weren't very cooked. So I put the pot pie back in for another 20 minutes, then another 20 minutes, then another 10 minutes, and it finally seemed OK. Another half an hour of cleaning the kitchen and I was completely exhausted and pissed off.
To make things worse I bought enough ingredients for two pot pies! The next night I was forced to make it again, and even with my "newfound experience" I spent half the night engaged in battle with the pot pie. The second pot pie was amazingly good, but I couldn't even come close to admitted it was worth all the effort.
So to all you "cooks" out there who make food every night, I don't know how you do it. In fact I don't even want to know how you do it. I guess everyone has their skills; I can setup an entire network with 100 computers in one night, but I'll be damned if I can make a pot pie or a bowl of cereal. Well THIS IS THE LAST TIME! If you want to find me I'll be at Subway or a mental health clinic recovering for the next few months.
Oh, and in case you want to make that stupid pot pie: I DARE YOU!
No comments:
Post a Comment