Pretty orange bread isn’t it? You would have thought when I opened my breadmaker on Friday I would have patiently waited until the bread had cooled so I could then carefully detached it from the breadmaker. Well I didn’t. In fact, I attacked it. I attacked the hot pan with the steaming loaf in it with two spatulas and would not give in. As a result when it came out what areas were not completely compressed were torn apart. Only two small areas of the bread were salvageable. What had I done?
That was not like me. I know better, I know I do. But something snapped. Since I hurt my back I have been so frustrated. Walking on eggshells, living swaddled on my couch just lying there hoping it would get better. Gently I have been trying to catch up on all the housework that I got behind in, not to mention a plethora of appointments to go to… no time in the kitchen. I am realizing more and more than time spent in my kitchen is my own personal dose of therapy. You wait too long….
I wanted to go over how to make paninis yesterday. I got out my grill, heated it up and then realized I was out of mayonnaise. Those commercials are right, a sandwich just isn’t a sandwich without Miracle Whip!
That got me thinking, I could make my own aioli! I was making these sweet potato fries to go with our steak dinner and figured well at least today I could learn how to make this aioli recipe. In the list of ingredients it said to use lime juice but in the directions it says to add lemon! Bloody hell. Fine, OK, I will use lime. I grated in some frozen chipotle (when I get a can I deseed the peppers and then freeze it so it lasts a long time) and it tasted all wrong. This is what homemade mayo is supposed to taste like? It is just bitter, there is no flavour!
Then dinner time came around. I was already frustrated and exhausted. My husband could sense that I really should not be in the kitchen and gently reminded me we could get Subway for dinner. I had steaks I had to use or lose so I thanked him and said no, no I gotta cook. Well no good cooking experience begins with those words. At least not in my kitchen!
It was all going OK until the very end. I had used a frying pan to sear the steaks to avoid using my grill and setting off the fire alarm. Which went off anyway. I turned on the kitchen venting system (cursing the loss of expensive heat in my house) and then ran with a plate to the smoke detector, fanning away the mysterious smoke. It was at that point I saw that the blender I have a hate-hate relationship with was oozing my very berry smoothie everywhere. So I ran to the bleeding blender spilling its juice all over my counter and the dishes to put it in the sink, cursing like a sailor, only to have the fire alarm go off, again.
Fingers frozen and dripping with purple goo I quickly rinse them off and grab the plate once again and fan, fan, fan. What the &*@)!!!!!! My husband, downstairs and hiding from the chaos in the kitchen, delicately asks if he can help. I boom, “NOOOO!!!!!!……. but… thank you.” I am sure that it sounded like the world was coming to a nasty and blasphemous end from down there, he was quite brave to volunteer his help, my sweetheart.
All through dinner as my husband took each sip from his very berry smoothie the glass stuck to the coaster like glue, reminding me of the kitchen insanity I wanted to forget. I wish I could have laughed about it, but no, there had not been enough time, I was still steaming with rage. The smoothie had gotten over everything and it is a miracle that blender escaped the fate of the garbage can.
I am determined that today is a new and better day in my kitchen. No distractions, I will focus on just my food today and start with fresh ingredients and a better attitude. Kitchen therapy here I come! As far as I am concerned, the kitchen banshee has been banished.