I suffer. It's guilt. I feel like under different circumstances I could have been a pretty decent housewife. Things just didn't go that way for me. It wasn't a 'strength area'. I mean I can cook, sure. People will live off off the sustenance I offer. But no one really goes away feeling like "wow... that was special." It's more like "wow... that was chicken."
So I am going to improve. I am going to start trying some 'recipes'. Can't you just see me sitting off from the other mom's at my son's soccer game sideline flipping through 'recipe books.' Ha. (Not) I mean who can tell from the back of an iPad what the hell you are looking at? And paper is inefficient and insulting to trees.
So I decided, on a very cold rainy day (yesterday), to start with my first recipe. I required comfort food. I went to a woman whom I have an affection for - one who has really good taste in canine companionship - I went to the Pioneer Woman. Now some (who actually speak to my head) will remember me saying that - though I do like her blog, I recently had some harsh criticism for her book.
I did. And I meant those things. She was fluffy and that made me want to vomit.
Stick to the blog lady.
But maybe she could cook. She could damn well take a decent picture of food. Never met a person who made a glass of iced coffee look so good. I selected a recipe from her site that was for Meatloaf.
Because it seemed almost primordial. Something time should have perfected. And it was meat. And it was intended to be served hot. And with egg noodles.
Sigh...this whole bloody meal may have been a vehicle for buttered egg noodles.
Is that wrong?
F-it. Moving on. I went to the store and bought $49 worth of listed food stuffs. Came home and without changing my clothes - I jumped into action.
I mixed gross things with other gross things. I made wet bread in a bowl while eating (and feeding my height impaired audience) with slices of cheap squishy white bread that had zero nutritional content. The stuff is just great. It was Sunbeam Bread. Like the commercial. That was on 37 years ago. Yeah, that commercial. You can make a ball out of a squished slice and then savagely bite it in to it in a 'mock thespian act.' Dogs love this shit.
So I made the 'brain puddin' as I called it.
It sticks to your hands and reminds you of potential occupational hazards Doctor G, Medical Examiner might encounter.
You get 'flingy hands'.
"tee hee... ewww, get it off. this feels weird. yuck. ick. tee-hee. ahhhhhh (fling)"
Mental note to get one of those Kohler sink-nozzle-heads that respond to human touch.
And then you make a 'loaf' the size of .. well the size of an 8 month old baby. It was frickin huge. And it was ALLOVERTHEPLACE. It was an unstereotypically liquid brain mass. I threw it back into the bowl and added more cheese and bread to get some of the soupy-ness under control. And other piece of bread for me and my friends. Okay two. (I was no longer hungry at this point.)
It finally came together enough for me to wrap bacon around it. I found it confusing that the recipe only asked for 12 slices of bacon when life sells you 18 slices of bacon in the package. I mean what am I going to do with 6 stray pieces of bacon? wtf? I pondered this with surgeon hands while picking a bit of brain off my nice cashmere sweater with the clean microtip of one pinky finger. I gave the audience each two slices of raw bacon and then added two to the recipe. It seemed fair.
And another piece of bread for me.
Pause - I am sitting her laughing at the seeing the reality of why I am overweight, always sick, and why my dogs are obese and the neighbors don't respect me. My kitchen has a floor to ceiling window that looks directly onto the sidewalk outside. They see me - but I never see them. That's what the dogs are for.
So I made this:
I know. That's a lot of bacon. Especially for a person that doesn't normally eat bacon. And does not consider herself a 'fan' of bacon. Bacon. Lot's'o'bacon. This photo was taken before I put the sauce on it. The sauce that looked ironically like fresh blood. :) Yeah, weird. (eww?)
And then I cooked 'la mio bacon bambini'.... for 6 days. No shit.. my kid was asleep by the time this thing was finally done.
I had expected the house to smell amazing.
I had expected the house to also smell like bacon.
It didn't. Though the dogs may argue otherwise. Hambone was all but humping the stove.
It was a good meal. (meh) That I will have for a decade before it is finally gone. I liked the 'meat inside' part when it was cooked. It was tasty and oddly light. But next time I will skip the sauce and bacon and put the damn thing in a pan. Or several pans. And not treat it like a turkey.
There was just too much bacon. My nostrils are still full of the sweet, meat smell and I want nothing but salads today.
Bon chance mon ami.