Or what happens when Terry is told to make supper and try to use up some stuff in the fridge.
The BT’s are actually supposed to be BLT’s. But Lindz doesn’t care for lettuce, so we don’t usually have it around. Personally, I like rabbit food, but I often don’t use it up fast enough, so we usually don’t buy it. Nothing fancy with these, just good ol’ bacon, tomato, bit of mayo, and toasted bread. Heart stopping goodness.
The pepper salad is a variation of a tomato salad that I often make. I did a very coarse chop on four peppers, added some very thinly sliced red onion, a light drizzle of olive oil, pinch of salt, a few grinds of pepper, and some balsamic vinegar to give it just a bit of a bite. All of this is to your personal taste, of coarse. In case you haven’t guessed, I just swapped the peppers in for the tomatoes from the original recipe. Dave put this on his bacon sandwich and seemed to enjoy it. Not what was planned, but then I’m pretty easy going.
The conversation between Lindz and Dave as I was starting to come up with a meal plan went as follows:
Lindz: Do you like green bean hotdish?
Dave: What’s in it?
Lindz: Green beans, cream of mushroom soup, and French’s onions on top.
Lindz: What’s wrong with you?!?
So the bowl of steamed green beans was for Dave. Like Lindz said, all that went into the hotdish was two cans of green beans, one can of cream of mushroom soup, and enough of French’s onions on top to cover. Bake at 375 degrees F until it bubbles (about 10 to 15 minutes) and serve.
This was one of the days that we were working up on a roof. So, by the time I got home, I hadn’t eaten in six hours, drank a gallon of water and was still dehydrated, and I had a beer while cooking. Talk about a cheap buzz. This is just the set-up to what seemed like a really good idea. And as it turns out, it was. I sliced up a couple of jalapenos and fried them in the bacon grease. They went great on the BT.
This evening we went to see our friend Dave preach at a nearby church. He did very well, thank you for asking. Lindz and I didn’t get a chance to eat supper before we had to leave, so we ended up inviting Dave over for some supper after church. Turns out he was planning on inviting himself over to de-stress anyway, so it worked out well. I had a leek that needed to get used up, so I decided to pan fry it and put on top of the burgers that I was making. From there, I decided to use up some onion as well. And digging around, I found a jalapeno that I could fry up too. That last item is where things went wrong. I decided to skip over the seeding and just slice and fry it. When it came time for the jalapeno’s turn in the pan, I was its first victim. You know how you can tear up from an onion? Yeah. This was ten times as bad. Anytime I got near to the pan to look and see how things were doing I was assaulted with the vapors. Finally, it dawned on me to turn on the fan. Even though it just blows air over my head, it was at least out of my eyes. This was the point it claimed its next victims. Dave and Lindz were sitting in the living room talking and happened to be directly in the path of the fan. They started tearing up and coughing, so Lindz opened the window. That eventually helped and we ate and all was good. However, this wasn’t the first time that I accidentally waged chemical warfare on people with my cooking.
While still living in Decorah, I was making a satay sauce that I’ve made several times. I never noticed the “side effects” of the cooking process until Lindz was there hanging out. At one point she was asking what was going on. This was motivated by the fact that Ophelia (the little cat) was doing her best Bast impression in the door to the kitchen staring at me, eyes watering, squinting, and silently yelling “Dude! What the *$&#@ are you doing?!?!?!?” Again, this isn’t the first time either.
To the best of my recollection, the first time was when I had some people over for a very impromptu after-the-bar-snack. I decided to do a stir fry because it was quick and easy. I wanted to add some heat because this group of friends liked spicy food. In my cupboard, I found a small can of chipotle peppers in adobo sauce. Not having used it before, I just dumped the whole can in. In my defense, and I’ve said it many, many times, it was a small can. It couldn’t have been more than five or six ounces and I had a lot of things in the wok. By this point everyone was ravenous and started digging in even though the rice wasn’t done yet. Somewhere around the second bite was when it hit everyone. I’m honestly not sure why we kept eating it, it was that spicy. The only thing I can think of was we were just that hungry. I say this because one friend, who shall remain nameless, went down to his car and found a stale loaf of bread and we started eating that with the stir fry to cut the heat. Please don’t ask why he had a stale loaf of bread in his car. I didn’t ask because I didn’t want to know. I suggest you do the same. Those unwilling to try the mystery bread started eating the half cooked rice. Not surprisingly, I received quite a few jabs about my “infamous chipotle stir fry”. I don’t care. They were the fools who kept eating it.