Friday, June 4, 2010

Things I Am Not Proud Of

In Which The Author Wastes Perfectly Good Tequila

Had a Bridget Jones level cooking disaster the other night.

Now, I consider myself a pretty good cook. There aren't a whole lot of recipes I'd be afraid to try and I have a few staples up my sleeve that always come out great and impress the crowd (hello, lasagna). I've only had a few mishaps in the kitchen and they were all pretty minor.

This was not minor.

This was hardly a mishap.

It was a fecking disaster.

This was the plan: a romantic dinner for The Boy and I consisting of avocado and shrimp soup with caviar and creme fraiche, served with tilapia tacos with mango jicama salsa. The recipe came from a fantastic book I got for my birthday filled with recipes that use tequila or agave. I was super excited for this dinner. For Christ's sake, I bought caviar.

This was the turn of events: I headed for home after an exhausting weekend of wedding showers, family visits and Memorial Day fun with the bride-to-be in tow. Having bought more than enough ingredients, I invited her to stay for dinner before she headed back to Brooklyn. No big deal, I thought. This dinner will be great! I was so excited to get home and start cooking that I ignored the Boy's calls.

Have you ever started a project with a cloud of doom hanging over your head? I have. Little things kept going wrong, but it didn't phase me.
So The Boy ordered pizza because I didn't answer his calls. We can eat it tomorrow for breakfast! So I spilled the cream, no big deal. We have plenty!
So the tilapia has mysteriously vanished*. We can use this catfish, it isn't that old!

All the while I'm trying to ignore this little voice in the back of my head saying, "Fuck this shit! Abandon ship!" That ignoring I did? That was a mistake.

The food processor leaked. Then it exploded.

And I'd come too far to turn back now. So I reblended and then assembled the soup, complete with ridiculously expensive garnishes. And I made the catfish taco salads.

And you know what? It was fucking gorgeous. Like, 5 Star restaurant looking meal. It may not show in the pictures, but this meal was so aesthetically pleasing Martha Stewart would be jealous. Or at least impressed. Or maybe just satisfied. I really can't tell with that woman.

Catfish Tacos with mango jicama salsa

Shrimp and avocado soup with creme fraiche and caviar

And you know what else? It tasted like tequila scented ass. Assssssssss. I mean, it was delicious for three bites and then it felt like a drunk avocado took a crap in our mouths. And the shrimp was that kid who's dry and super boring so he gets a kick out of getting his drunk friends to do hilarious things. "Do it!! Take a dump in their mouth, you drunk asshole!"

And the catfish? It was that old. No bueno.

The traumatized and hungry bride-to-be left and The Boy and I were stuck with a disaster zone of a kitchen, a gallon of green goo, and cold pizza.

So, naturally, we popped open a bottle of champagne and had it with the rest of the caviar. In case you were wondering, caviar is an excellent appetizer for a pizza dinner.

*for those of you who read/watched/loved/obsessed about Bridget Jones: I literally peered into the freezer and said, "Oh fuck! Where the fuck is the fucking tilapia?! And, like Bridget and her fucking tuna, I still have no fucking idea.

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