Overdone and undercooked
It’s lunchtime and I’m hungry. And impatient. Thankfully, there are turkey leftovers that I can heat up in the non-stick frying pan. The only thing I have to do is a simple side dish of pasta to go with the protein.
With the frying pan already on the stove, I grab a small pot, fill it with water, throw in some rock salt, cover it and crank up the heat to the maximum setting for the water to boil.
Since the stove is electric and not gas, it takes almost a minute to heat up. I walk into the living room to change the channel on the TV.
Thirty seconds later, I hear crackling. A lot of crackling.
It's boiling? I think. Already? That was quick.
Before I reach the kitchen, I see the red filament radiating from under the frying pan.
“Oh, fuck.”
By the time I turn off the burner, the turkey has already burned. The water in the pot, unfortunately, is still cold.
“Awww, crap!" I place my index finger inside the pot to test the temperature. "Crap, crap, crap."
As I crank up the heat on the right filament, I look at the pot. It’s true what they say about watching a pot boil. It takes for-fucking-ever. When the water boils, I throw in the pasta and wait. Impatiently. I want to eat, now.
After 10 minutes, I take a few pieces and taste for tenderness. They’re still fairly raw, but I don’t give a fuck. Ideally, I should’ve thrown it all out and started from scratch, but I’m too bloody hungry.
Anyway, it all balances itself out in the end: Cajun turkey and very, very al dente pasta.
Jean Georges is considering stealing the recipe.
With the frying pan already on the stove, I grab a small pot, fill it with water, throw in some rock salt, cover it and crank up the heat to the maximum setting for the water to boil.
Since the stove is electric and not gas, it takes almost a minute to heat up. I walk into the living room to change the channel on the TV.
Thirty seconds later, I hear crackling. A lot of crackling.
It's boiling? I think. Already? That was quick.
Before I reach the kitchen, I see the red filament radiating from under the frying pan.
“Oh, fuck.”
By the time I turn off the burner, the turkey has already burned. The water in the pot, unfortunately, is still cold.
“Awww, crap!" I place my index finger inside the pot to test the temperature. "Crap, crap, crap."
As I crank up the heat on the right filament, I look at the pot. It’s true what they say about watching a pot boil. It takes for-fucking-ever. When the water boils, I throw in the pasta and wait. Impatiently. I want to eat, now.
After 10 minutes, I take a few pieces and taste for tenderness. They’re still fairly raw, but I don’t give a fuck. Ideally, I should’ve thrown it all out and started from scratch, but I’m too bloody hungry.
Anyway, it all balances itself out in the end: Cajun turkey and very, very al dente pasta.
Jean Georges is considering stealing the recipe.
Authored by S at 12:00 am
7 Comments:
people will eat some odd things when they are hungry.
We have an electric stove with exposed cooking elements so we cover them when not in use with decorative metal "lids". I am always and forever turning on the wrong burner (one underneath an as yet uncovered burner) and burning the paint off the decorative lid. I relate.
I wish I was allergic to carbohydrates.
I would not even attempt to use the stove. That is when disaster occurs.
Yeah KD is hard to cook too.
Timmy: What do you describe as odd?
Lemuel: My mother used to do that all the time, then she caught on and stopped buying those lids.
Liquid: That's bad.
Jason: You are, hence the puffiness.
Pablo: It's all the stove's fault, right?
YJA: You have to use the stove for KD? Just use hot water!
Don't expect Food Network to be knocking on your door anytime soon asking you to be their next celebrity chef. Stick to baking cookies.
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