I’m willing to write off one out of every, say, twenty dishes I cook as a complete and unmitigated disaster. And usually, afterward, I understand why it happens. Botched technique, too much heat, (either in the “caliente” or the “picante” sense of the word) too little attention, or drastically misunderstanding the changes the food will undergo while cooking. We make a mental note, we salvage what we can, we do the dishes, and, if necessary, order up some Indian takeout.
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Sorry to not post for a couple of weeks, but I had to share this.
I made Concord Grape Jam today, courtesy of Jessie at The Hungry Mouse.
(sidenote: I would never presume to tell you guys how to spend your time online, but if you are not reading this blog, you really should be. Even if you don’t like to cook, her whimsy and enthusiasm are just infectious. )
Anyway, this jam is not for the faint of heart. You will squeeze the grapes until your hands and furniture are covered in acid. Whatever you are wearing will be forever stained. There will be purple goop all over your kitchen. And you guys know how graceful I am. Molten jam, like sugar or deep fried foods… DEATH TRAP.
But OH MY was it worth it. I don’t know how long this jar is going to last. I’m going to have to make some cashew butter to go along with this.
Pretty lucky I had some homemade bread, too, wasn’t I. YUM.
There is a trick to walking through a crowded grocery store wearing a sombrero.
You have to be it. Own it. Every movement, every gesture, every facial expression must ooze comfort. I am not talking about cocky bravado – that would reek of overcompensation and defeat the entire purpose. You must, rather, be simply confident. Walking around in a sombrero must seem like second nature. The vapid stares from the other shoppers must fall off you like raindrops upon stone. The giggles are ignored. Questions like “dude… why are you wearing a sombrero?” meet with a low-key, clever retort.
The only problematic moment of my trip (Kenard Avenue Kroger, for those of you keeping score at home) occurred at the very end of my visit, when I had to ask an 18 year old store clerk where in the freezer case I might find puff pastry. He looked up at me from behind his fortress of boxes, and his face slowly started peeling back into a surprised smile.
Of course, it’s possible that Kroger corporation has developed a world-class sensitivity training program, whereby front-line staff are drilled in respecting customers for sartorial diversity…
I wasn’t going to chance it. I just eyeballed him. You’re gonna laugh at me, punk? No. You’re not. You’re going to tell me where the puff pastry is because I wear this goddamn sombrero every time i visit the grocery. Arright?
I suppose I should back up and mention that I hosted a tequila party this past Saturday Night.
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