I visited an old friend the other day and she served the nicest non-traditional dinner. I commented on how eclectic her creation was and she suggested I try some recipes to assimilate a new repertoire of cooking strategies. At this point she whipped out four new cook books, that still smelled like the printing press with sales tags hanging off the binding.
I wasn't sure which book I should take, so in true bold friend fashion, she chose two books and shoved them into my face. Here begins the drama that almost made me cry, but in the end made me a better person, even if I'm not a better cook.
Last night I went grocery shopping and decided to pick up all the items I needed for one of the 30 Minute Recipes from my new cook book. I was aiming to reproduce the chicken stir fry recipe on page 34, however, there were a few glitches.
The store only had bone in chicken thighs, but the recipe called for stir fry strips. I was too cheap to buy breasts and completely forgot about the dark meat vs white meat cooking time thing. The recipe said to shred the ginger, garlic and spring onions and then saute them in a wok on high heat. I don't have a wok, so I use the sauce pan from my huge pot set which I know will burn the bejeebers out of anything on high heat, so I put the stove on 4. I thought I had a bunch of spring onions, but only found a few dying sprigs, so I substituted some cooking onions which have ZERO flavour. (I need to blame someone else for the fact that the spring onions were gone. I refuse to take responsibility for goofing this part of the recipe.)
The recipe then says to add the chicken which I decided needed some `seasoning up` before cooking. At this point the idea of adding curry exploded in my brain and I got carried away. Well, the curry I have must be some fool`s concoction because it started to clump all over the chicken in the pot, at which point I started freaking because this would have turned out fine if I had a dutchie. Any how, the oil dried out and the chicken stuck to the pot so I added some water and decided to chuck the cookbook and simmer down the `curry chicken`.
About a half of an hour later, the chicken looked as yellow as Big Bird and the gravy tasted very bitter. Mind you, I`ve cooked curry chicken before with no problem. I added some carrots to counter the bitter taste and made an SOS call to my oldest sister. While talking to her I added some ketchup and a spoon of sugar. I was desperate and I could see that everyone else in the house was dying of hunger as I worked my magic in the kitchen.
The SOS call was also a disaster. My sister berated me for adding the ketchup and told me to hide it somewhere where I would forget it and add some garlic instead. In went the garlic and it disappeared into the blazing glory of yellow curry slop that I swear would stain the pan. I needed a plan B very quickly. Luckily I had some pork chops already seasoned (without curry) in the fridge, so I shoved them into the oven and they cooked quickly.
Back to the chicken. I yelled at it some more and put it aside, dashing bleach everywhere before the color of my kitchen changed to match that unknown incessant aroma that streams through the condo hallway at 1:30 in the afternoon. I formally gave up on the chicken and left it on the stove. I even gave the pot one good 'cut eye' as I left the kitchen and hissed my teeth.
That evening, after I fed everyone else and the pork was finished, I was starving and decided to taste the chicken. My ego was still bruised from not being able to lick a simple recipe from the cook book. As I expected, the chicken was pretty good! Only the gravy was bitter. So my culinary expertise told me to remove the chicken from the yellow goo and put it in another pan with some bar-b-que sauce and hammer it under the broiler for 5 minutes and WHALA! We have dinner for another day!
The next time I decide to use a recipe I will remember the following rules:
1) Only substitute ingredients when your oldest sister cooking with you.
2) If the recipe does not mention 'seasoning up' the meat, ignore your island instinct and stick to the recipe.
3) Make sure you have a dutchie. This type of pot is useful for cooking everything and cannot be stained by curry.
Smile
I wasn't sure which book I should take, so in true bold friend fashion, she chose two books and shoved them into my face. Here begins the drama that almost made me cry, but in the end made me a better person, even if I'm not a better cook.
Last night I went grocery shopping and decided to pick up all the items I needed for one of the 30 Minute Recipes from my new cook book. I was aiming to reproduce the chicken stir fry recipe on page 34, however, there were a few glitches.
The store only had bone in chicken thighs, but the recipe called for stir fry strips. I was too cheap to buy breasts and completely forgot about the dark meat vs white meat cooking time thing. The recipe said to shred the ginger, garlic and spring onions and then saute them in a wok on high heat. I don't have a wok, so I use the sauce pan from my huge pot set which I know will burn the bejeebers out of anything on high heat, so I put the stove on 4. I thought I had a bunch of spring onions, but only found a few dying sprigs, so I substituted some cooking onions which have ZERO flavour. (I need to blame someone else for the fact that the spring onions were gone. I refuse to take responsibility for goofing this part of the recipe.)
The recipe then says to add the chicken which I decided needed some `seasoning up` before cooking. At this point the idea of adding curry exploded in my brain and I got carried away. Well, the curry I have must be some fool`s concoction because it started to clump all over the chicken in the pot, at which point I started freaking because this would have turned out fine if I had a dutchie. Any how, the oil dried out and the chicken stuck to the pot so I added some water and decided to chuck the cookbook and simmer down the `curry chicken`.
About a half of an hour later, the chicken looked as yellow as Big Bird and the gravy tasted very bitter. Mind you, I`ve cooked curry chicken before with no problem. I added some carrots to counter the bitter taste and made an SOS call to my oldest sister. While talking to her I added some ketchup and a spoon of sugar. I was desperate and I could see that everyone else in the house was dying of hunger as I worked my magic in the kitchen.
The SOS call was also a disaster. My sister berated me for adding the ketchup and told me to hide it somewhere where I would forget it and add some garlic instead. In went the garlic and it disappeared into the blazing glory of yellow curry slop that I swear would stain the pan. I needed a plan B very quickly. Luckily I had some pork chops already seasoned (without curry) in the fridge, so I shoved them into the oven and they cooked quickly.
Back to the chicken. I yelled at it some more and put it aside, dashing bleach everywhere before the color of my kitchen changed to match that unknown incessant aroma that streams through the condo hallway at 1:30 in the afternoon. I formally gave up on the chicken and left it on the stove. I even gave the pot one good 'cut eye' as I left the kitchen and hissed my teeth.
That evening, after I fed everyone else and the pork was finished, I was starving and decided to taste the chicken. My ego was still bruised from not being able to lick a simple recipe from the cook book. As I expected, the chicken was pretty good! Only the gravy was bitter. So my culinary expertise told me to remove the chicken from the yellow goo and put it in another pan with some bar-b-que sauce and hammer it under the broiler for 5 minutes and WHALA! We have dinner for another day!
The next time I decide to use a recipe I will remember the following rules:
1) Only substitute ingredients when your oldest sister cooking with you.
2) If the recipe does not mention 'seasoning up' the meat, ignore your island instinct and stick to the recipe.
3) Make sure you have a dutchie. This type of pot is useful for cooking everything and cannot be stained by curry.
Smile
