Everything I do turns out perfect. My family raves and shouts “Brava! Brava!” at every meal. My coworkers swoon over my cookies and my friends beg for my lasagna. I am magnificent – perfection itself – the acme of home cookery!
And I also have some beach front property for sale in Florida if you are interested and a good deal on the Brooklyn Bridge to boot.
Every so often, I loose the ability to cook tasty food. I don’t know what it is – something in my brain just doesn’t connect and dinner will be a disaster. It will look fine – nothing burned, nothing raw –but the taste will be absolutely awful. A couple of years ago, I had a four day streak of cooking that was so bad, the hubby took us out to dinner for the rest of the week. He said I must have strained something and I needed to give it a chance to rest.
This last week, I decided I wanted to do a stir fry with some of the garden veggies and some surimi. I got out all the usual ingredients. I tossed them together using a formula that had worked before. Everything should have been fine – but it wasn’t.
We sat down to eat and Annie, the perpetually hungry teen, started shoving the food in her face and said “murphe murphsy murfh.” I took that to mean everything was great. Tony sat down and took a bite. The strangest look came over his face. He took another bite. Then he kinda shoved it around the plate like a five year old who was hoping the dog would come by to eat all his veggies. A couple minutes later, Annie went to get more milk and Tony looked at me and said, “This sucks. I can’t eat it.” Ah, my wonderful tactful hubby!
Thing is, I had to agree. The food wasn’t right. It was too – something or not enough of something else. I cannot describe to you what was wrong with it, but it tasted so odd that it was unpleasant to eat. Annie, on the other hand, kept on eating after pouring a huge dollop of sriracha sauce on it. Tony and I didn’t let out a peep. If she could eat it – more power to her!
About 20 minutes later I discovered we were almost out of milk and Tony graciously offered to drive me to the store. White Castles never tasted so good…