Oh, I had such high hopes for this week. A new recipe and another recipe to redeem a past failure. What could go wrong?
Bear but a touch of my hand, and you will be upheld in more more this. But not much more.
I think we were Christmas shopping on Saturday. I remember thinking fervently, “Oh, thank goodness we bought those pizzas, because we were out shopping all day.”
I think we were still Christmas shopping? Or making chocolate caramel almonds, something exhausting. I had to make a separate trip out to the store to get more sprinkles.
Hot dogs, spicy fries, corn
Maybe you remember the dreadful chicken salsa verde slop I made last week. This was where my high hopes began. When I make terrible food, I like to redeem myself by remaking it better next time; so I found an actual recipe. Chicken, cream cheese, salsa verde, garlic, cumin; serve with cilantro, pepper jack, avocados, and sour cream. Can’t miss.
Well, the avocados weren’t anywhere near ripe on Monday, so we had hot dogs. Which was good, because we had spent a lot of time shopping on Monday.
Asian peanut pork on noodles
Here’s a recipe I’ve been drooling over for a while, from A Year of Slow Cooking: Asian peanut butter pork. It was so easy! It smelled so wonderful all day! At this point in the week, I was slow cookers’ greatest fan. Not only had I slapped together this magnificent meal, we still had that salsa verde feast coming up later in the week. Boy oh boy oh boy. We had a lot of shopping to do, and there’s nothing like coming home to a hot meal after shopping all afternoon, and boy did this one smell good.
The peanut pork was. . . fine. I don’t know. It tasted exactly like what it was. I thought the lime and peanut combination was fine. The natural crunchiness of the peanut garnish added some natural crunchiness. And that was the extent of it.
Maybe I overcooked it, or used the wrong cut of meat. I was under the impression that it was impossible to overcook things in the slow cooker, because the slow cooker is in charge, but maybe I am wrong.
Scrambled eggs, sausages, grits
On Wednesday, I was pretty hot to get that salsa verde thing going, especially since I knew we had a big day of shopping ahead of us, and I would want to come home and have a really tasty meal waiting. READY, AVOCADOS?
Nope. Not ready. Scrambled eggs it is.
Creamy chicken nachos(?)
I decided that time and tide could wait for no avocados. I assembled the rest of my ingredients, and GUESS WHAT?
I never bought salsa verde.
I don’t even want to tell you how many supermarkets I had visited, and at no point at all did I buy salsa verde. I probably waltzed past various salsa verde aisles thirty or forty times this week. Probably that salsa sat there, staring through the curved window of their bottle homes in mute disbelief as I passed again and again, oblivious as a fruit fly to my now two-week-old obligation to stop and pick up a few jars of salsa verde.
So I looked up a whole other recipe using the ingredients I did have, mostly. It called for chicken, ranch dressing mix, cream cheese, and bacon. I figured any idiot could throw together something resembling ranch dressing mix, and as for the bacon, well, I had bought six boxes of ready-cooked bacon for Vincent de Paul, a decision I do not wish to discuss with anyone. My husband offered to run to the store to pick up ranch dressing mix, but I said, “No, no, that’s crazy! We’ve been shopping so many times this week! I can’t stand to buy even one more thing! I can do this! It will be good!”
So it cooked all day, and it smelled pretty nice; but at this point, I was starting to get the message that it was possible I was some kind of idiot who had nothing but terrible ideas poorly executed. So when it came to adding poor’s stolen bacon, a little warning bell went off in my head, saying, “Ding ding ding! This is terrible food, so please don’t waste even terrible bacon in it!” So I didn’t, and it was. Terrible food. Well, I ate it. I had thrown half a jar of jalapeno peppers into one pot, which made that portion terrible, but peppery.
I . . . I have to stop at the store. We don’t have any noodles.