I should’ve gone to the gym. There’s a grumpy guy with a 12” Henkel in the kitchen dicing root vegetables for a curry dish I’m about to make up. I can feel my blood pressure rising. I’m not accomplishing what I want to. I’m not posting to my blog, I’m not going to the gym and work stress is getting cliché. Make sure it’s a good dice on that turnip. I feel like such a bum. I tend to gravitate to the couch in these situations. Bring up the Netflix and put a fresh 6 pack of a mighty fine IPA in the fridge. Today, I’m drinking Avery in a can. I like the craft beer in a can the same way I like my cheap domestic stuff in a bottle. The longer I cut these rainbow carrots and sweet potatoes the more relaxed I’m getting. Now I’ve got to mince the garlic and break out the Le Creuset.
So I didn’t work out. I decided I’d get into some traditional curry flavors thanks to the fancy spices I got at Xmas. The Organic turmeric and ground fenugreek seeds mated with the sautéed vegetables makes the place smell like a fancy Indian buffet. Not the gross ones… a really classy spot. I just need Naan and some Bollywood on in the background. Really. Next Mission: Make Naan. Instead I’m deactivating facebook again and listening to mopey emo music. I don’t know how the band She & Him managed to make “Please, Please, Please, Let Me Get What I Want” more dramatic than Morrissey’s but they did. God my house smells good. Where was I?
Mealtime at my house is normally about 8:30 and it’s never boring. Someone gives me a random veggie or some spices they never use and I amass a collection of random ingredients in my fridge until it is so chaotic that I decide to incorporate everything together . So I’m doing the curry thing. Whenever I get in the kitchen and I’m grumpy I throw the pans around with a ferocity usually reserved for big cover nights in a tiny restaurants. I chop and dice and mince and try to make something I haven’t made before. This is also usually when stuff goes bad. If I was working I’d be in the weeds. I’d have all my eggs in one basket and the basket would be on fire and I’d need 11 of the 12 eggs. Really, I just burn something or forget something because I’m trying to get fancy. But tonight my kitchen smells awesome. Even if it sucks because I overcook it because I’m distracted cooking and writing at the same time a stranger walking past my house could stop by and ask for a table.
