Spicy

Ever have one of those days when you have a feeling of doom about the meal you are cooking from the moment you begin - and it turns out you were right to feel that way? When, during each major step of the recipe, you think "I should stop now - I can still pretend this never happened". But you convince yourself you're just getting tweaked and it would be irresponsible to throw out all that food. You press on despite numerous omens trying to tell you to turn back - much like the classic scary movie scenario in which the entire audience can see that the main character is ignorantly walking right into her own death trap. Well I walked into my own culinary death trap today. I was the unwitting scary movie victim armed only with a recipe off the internet and a lot of curry paste.

My husband, Randy, and I have a somewhat young interest in/obsession with cuisine of the Indian persuasion. I watch a lot of Food Network. We are on a budget. All these seemingly unrelated circumstances collided and the result was brutal. The equasion is painfully simple: Randy + Kimmie = Insatiable Desire for Indian food. Budget - ever increasing household expenses = insufficient funds for Indian Buffet at Ambar (mmmmmmm.......Ambar). Kimmie + Ham on the Street episode about Microwave Curry Chicken = Big Ideas leading to Certain Doom.

I won't bore you with all the unfortunate details but let me just sum up by telling you that some of the warning signs I should have heeded include: burning the curry paste/oil mixture to a shadow of its former self during its three minute stint in the microwave and having to start all over, realizing that I had only one can of coconut milk when the recipe called for two, not being able to figure out if the chicken was actually getting cooked, ending up with a VERY soupy mess out of a mixture that was supposed to be a creamy sauce, and forgetting to make rice to go with the dish.

Needless to say I was battered and bruised when the curry chicken was "ready" to be eaten - but, like a fool, still hanging on to hope that my efforts were not in vein. I watched with anticipation as Randy tasted the sauce before we spooned it onto our plates. I watched with amazement as he yelped and waved his hands near his mouth as if to fan his tongue and exclaimed "That is HOT, son!" I knew the situation was serious - not only because Randy has been known to sip hot sauce right out of the bottle and wouldn't be "overheated" easily, but also because I am not now nor ever have been his son. And he's never called me that before - although my Dad does frequently - which is almost as strange.

To make a long story a little shorter - that crap was HOT, son. In yet another example of my misguided hope, I tried a piece of chicken thinking that maybe IT was not as hot as the sauce........Yeah - I think my mouth is still burning. In a valiant investigative effort we tried to track down the source of the heat and have decided that the Red Curry Paste is to blame. We have never bought curry paste before and didn't know whether to select the red or green variety. We picked the red since the finished dish on the episode I watched looked more reddish than greenish. So I don't know if green is less spicy than red - if there are any curry paste aficionados out there feel free to enlighten me! I followed the recipe word for word, save one cup of Cow Milk substituted for one cup of missing Coconut Milk.

Despite our best efforts to shield our budget from unnecessary food spending we decided to go to Chipoltle to drown our sorrows. We shared a burrito - for anyone concerned about my diet efforts.

Here is where the uneaten chicken is now.

















Randy put it in there to save it from my wrath - he says he can handle the heat and will take it for lunch after he does some minor modifications. More power to him - I wash my hands of the whole situation. What have I learned from this fiasco? Will I heed the warning signs during future doomed cooking expeditions? Sadly, probably not - because negative as I may be sometimes I still have a basically hopeful outlook when it comes to cooking, despite my estimates that I have about a 50% success rate. So watch for future Scary Stories from the Kitchen.


Knit Talk
I went to Michaels today after work (Randy, stop reading here - the rest of this is boring and you probably wouldn't find it the least bit interesting - in fact, it would probably be a waste of your time) - mostly because it was on my way home and I needed to use the bathroom like never before - and partly because I wanted to look at beads (why I wanted to look at beads is another story entirely). I looked at the beads and was unimpressed - and then somehow found myself in the yarn section. I was about to leave the store, unimpressed, when I saw a mirage. A beautiful but surely fleeting mirage: a large display of several varieties of $8.99/ball fuzzy novelty yarn marked down to..........wait for it...........$1.00/ball! Now this is yarn I probably would have never purchased at the original $8.99 price. But how can you pass up $1.00/ball? That's right - you can't - especially if you have been wanting to make a super soft and fuzzy afghan with big needles but didn't want to spend the money on the mountain of yarn necessary for the pattern.

So I bought this.........as well as some other, complimentary $1.00 yarn balls.

The yarn is resting on my copy of Weekend Knitting by Melanie Falick, open to a pattern called "Fluffy Afghan". So, you see, it was meant to be. Sadly, I don't have the needles required, so I couldn't start on it tonight. But that leaves tomorrow to look forward to. I can't wait until I finish this afghan - but knowing me I don't hold out much hope that it will ever be finished, since my patience isn't exactly world class. But it is certainly fun to pretend that I will finish. Self delusion isn't always bad - as long as nobody gets hurt!