I was a fairly successful cook once upon a time. Now, my occupation as a fiction writer takes me so far out to lunch that it is hard to get all the way home for dinner. Visual aides are helpful. Like yesterday, I was physically present in my kitchen, but mentally lost in space, when a cloud of smoke roiled past the window. I thought, whoa. There’s smoke in our backyard. Hmm, must be a fire. Someone must be having a fire in our backyard. Oh! THE CHICKEN.
My specialty is blackened recipes that you don’t find in restaurants: blackened muffins and blackened Rice-a-Roni are two that I serve frequently. Achieving the carbon effect is not easy because my recipe calls for the cook to forget that they just combined all ingredients over an open flame. Most people have trouble with the forgetting part when an open flame is involved and turn the stove off before obliterating dinner. The recipe for blackened muffins calls for the cook to forget they placed a pan of muffins in a 400 degree oven. Tricky because the smell of baking carbs pervades the house and one’s family must also be out to lunch for this recipe to blacken. If only cooking didn’t involve so many little waiting periods.
I also have this problem with the shower. It’s not my fault that my bathroom is on the same floor as my computer. And it’s not my fault that the amount of time needed for the hot water to get going is exactly the same amount of time needed to type one teensy weensy idea. By the time I remember the running water, it’s as foggy as Scotland Yard in a scary movie. Oops. Gotta go.
Five pounds of red potatoes were harmed in the writing of this post.