“Life
is uncertain. Eat dessert first”
---Ernestine
Ulmer
Faithful
readers in this space (both of you) will remember that while I seldom miss a
meal, I am a huge culinary failure. In more than a few of my efforts, there
have been kitchen fires, near-fatal caramel spills, breakage of glass items,
lacerations from utensils, and at least one call to a plumber, an electrician
and, if I’m being honest, 911.
Seriously, there is a reason that for any
potluck, school party, or bake sale, my most desperate hope is that I get to
the sign-up sheet early enough to put myself down to bring the napkins, the
paper cups, the bottled water, or any other item that doesn’t involve preparing
food. I love my friends, my family, and, to a lesser extent, my children’s
teachers and classmates. That is why they should never be subjected to
something cooked by me. It’s simply not fair.
I
belong to a badminton club, and once a year, every member must cook a Friday
night dinner. It’s a lovely tradition, and truly one I really enjoy. Usually,
two or three families work together to make a meal. It’s about coming together,
sharing what we have, lifting a glass, and breaking bread. My culinary
impairments shouldn’t get in the way of a good time, but it still stresses me
out. Luckily, the other families that have joined me in the kitchen over the years
have done most of the heavy lifting and my job is shopping and bringing
appetizers or a dessert that I can purchase.
This year, we had a meal of
enchiladas, beans and rice, assorted appetizers and churros with ice cream for
dessert. It’s possible that overconfidence and/or delusions of grandeur played
a part in my volunteering to bring both the side dish and the dessert. It’s
these moments of my life that, once I’ve committed to, generate a panic that
can only be compared to a scene from the Road Runner cartoons, where Wile E.
Coyote realizes, just a moment too late, that he has gone off the cliff and
will be plummeting to the desert floor, followed by an anvil landing on his
head.
The
rice and beans were not that hard to figure out; fortunately, I have lots of
friends who are much better than I am at cooking without setting their hair on
fire or poisoning anyone. The churros however? Well, all I can say is “WTH was
I thinking?” I thought churros could just be purchased somewhere. Well, they
can, but I was unsuccessful at finding out exactly where. So, my next move was
to see if such a thing as frozen churros that could be baked or microwaved
existed. Well, they do, but they must be fried in oil to be any good. Fabulous.
Hot oil and dough, on a gas stove, what could possibly go wrong? Still, I had
committed; failure was not an option.
This is where my newest discovery
happened. Instacart. It should be noted, in my house, we don’t hire out many
jobs. I’m job hunting; there’s no budget for staff at this time. However, I did
have an offer for free Instacart delivery and these frozen churros were not
right around the corner at Crosby's. Full disclosure, it was a cold day, and
laziness got to me. I pulled up the website, signed up, and claimed my
first-timer free delivery. I handed over my about to be maxed out credit card,
and ordered the churros, along with some rice, beans, spices, and a few other
items. About two hours later, Vander, Instacart shopper extraordinaire, was at
my door with the goods. Yes, I still have to cook them, and that will be an
adventure (this column is written a week ahead of print, so dinner hasn’t
happened yet) but I am up to the task.
While
anything in a kitchen is a challenge for me, finding help via Instacart, my
friends, and several recipe sites (as well as a coupon for a buy one, get one
free carton of ice cream) made it much less stressful. Sometimes, we just need
a little help. So thank you to Dr. Dan, Kathleen, Arthur, the other Arthur,
Beatriz, Vander, and the two random women in the supermarket who helped me find
the right kind of beans and rice. By press time, another dinner will be in the
books. Check my blog for an update on how it all went.
UPDATE: Holy Potluck, Batman, the night was a total success. Thanks to friends and fellow cooks, it was a night of good food, new friends, old friends, and a tradition of breaking bread, sharing what we have, and welcoming others. Not bragging on my abilities, I am simply happy that there were no injuries, no fires, no food poisoning, and more than enough laughter to carry us through. A good time was had by all.
