It’s miraculous, really. I looked at my hands today and then up my arm to my elbow. Clean, clear, free of abrasions, burns, or cuts, which marvels me because whenever I get in the kitchen, I wound myself. Even if it is the utterly last stage of plating things up, I will find a way to slice my fingertip or something. So, considering how much ruckus I have been causing in my favorite place of our condo (bed not included), I am thrilled that I have made it relatively unscathed (thus far *knock on wood*).
Our next recipe testing is the Spanish Omelet. I am slammed this weekend and really only have Sunday morning free, so we’ll give it a whirl. This dish can also be an entrée so it’s flexible for Car. It was either that or one of the poached egg options that was tempting me...
I notice in her postings that Car questions whether her meal will be bust or how her meal preparation may be thwarted. Now, in the 30 years of my life, Carlyn has never cooked anything bad. Even when she tried tripe, it was good. Who does that? Even when she claims its crazy in her kitchen, I don’t really notice. Me, on the other hand, I’m banging, sometimes cursing (usually at a cat underfoot), or managing (read what you want) my husband’s unsolicited cooking advice. My kitchen does get a little crazy, but I like it, so long as I don’t loose too many fingertips.
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