Oops!


So I get ambitious, right? Always a mistake. Always.

Go to the store. Why have plain ol’ chicken when you can jazz it up, liven it up, invigorate that shit a little, right? Add some zip, some pizzazz. I get tired of a handful of parsley scattered over a roaster nestled above the same old potatoes. So how ‘bout I try something a little different, a little dangerous?

Bad choice of wording. I’ve done this before. I got a wild hair across my butt a few years back and invested heavily in things I could cook with. Grill. Food processor. Produce shopping. The whole deal. Not good. Not good at all.

So what’s different this time?

Abso-frickin’-lutely nothing, that’s what. But I figured it’s time I got a little busy if I don’t want to choke down the same crap day-in, day-0ut. I’ll do a little bit myself.

I buy an apple pear. Eh. Won’t do that again, but whatever, it was like thirty cents. Big effin’ whoop, even I can afford that. I plucked a nice meaty red pepper out of the bin too. Another couple bucks. Okay, I can deal with that. I mean, I can’t make a habit out of this or anything, but I can do it this time. Then I get an orange. Another fraction of a buck. Less than four and I’ve got all my stuff for a little … well, stuffing.

One of the things which survived our horrific trek across time and space was our little solid flavor injector. Unlike liquid flavor injectors, this one can stick solid foods right into the fiber of your meat. Essentially, it stuffs your food with a salsa-like concoction you come up with on your own. Mine included that pear, an orange and its zest, a splash of oil and wine vinegar, salt, pepper, scallions, a couple of diced pineapple slices (canned), a red pepper, a splash of Worcestershire sauce (spell that crap however you’d like, that’s the one my dictionary picked for me), and a dash of Chardonnay. Sound good?

So I’m cutting and chopping. I’m in the cabinet looking for a container to hold my diced items. As I’m looking, I knock something out of the cabinet and it falls on the magnetic paper towel holder we have stuck to the side of the fridge.

The entire holder comes down. Boom.

It takes out my glass full of sugary juice, ice and a pineapple slice elegantly wedged over the rim. That glop splashes all over my French bread,  cutting board, knife, arms, shirt, pants, and runs down the cabinet fronts in thick, ropey strands of sweetly thick ooze. My Chardonnay bottle is clipped low by the spinning glass and falls like a ten pin. The cork’s not in it, I notice … too late.

I’m scrambling around, my hands trying to stop fifteen calamities at once, doing an ineffective job on all. I knock the glass into another spin and send the remnants of my drink spiraling over the countertops and microwave. The wine bottle looks like a group of kids spun it for their first kiss and it’s likewise hosing down the counter with golden (irreplaceable, at this point) liquid. My knife clatters to the floor and by only God’s grace and intervention does the edge swipe past my vulnerable stocking-clad toes, leaving them on my feet.

For a moment, I stared in a daze. The glass objects spun slowly to a halt, although the French bread had to reach out to stop the Chardonnay. Luckily they knew each other from the old country.

I put my hands slowly to my sides and backed away from the counter.

“Will you help me in here?” I called, and heard my wife get up from her seat, “I think it’s going to be one of those days.”

I’ll let you know how the chicken turns out.

-JDT-

All original content copyright 2010 DarcKnyt
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

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8 thoughts on “Oops!

  1. Oh chicken. I love chicken.

    I think you’d have like it. It stewed more than I wanted in the oven though. Maybe next time I’ll discard the marinade instead of putting it in the roasting pan with the chicken.

  2. I so love that I am not alone with these types of mishaps, lol. How was the chicken?

    It wasn’t bad. I was surprised how subtle the flavor was, but very distinctly present. Nice, I’d say.

  3. Oh no! That’s such a Sherri thing to do. It’s kind of a joke between my husband and me–a joke of which I am the butt, obviously–but he’s been dropping things lately, so I think he’s catching up with me.

    I’m almost never so klutzy as this time. But hey — maybe a new phase of life is beginning for me. 😉

    I hope your chicken was good!

    Not too bad, overall. I give it a high B.

  4. This made me giggle, and cover my mouth to try to hold back. I know I shouldn’t giggle… I know it’s so frustrating when you’re trying to make a lovely concoction for supper and nothing is going your way, but I’m just imagining all of these things dancing around the kitchen in every which way to a chorus of liquid orchestrating them.

    I meant it to get a giggle, sweetie. Giggle away! 🙂

    heehee (:

    And this injector you’ve mentioned… sounds interesting. I adore kitchen gadgets!

    Mine came with another kitchen gadget years ago; I’ve never seen one sold independently. And I ADORE GADGETS!!

    I hope your chicken turns out nice! (:

    Not too bad, actually! 🙂

    I have plans for a big dinner tonight, Karma will more than like find me for my giggles, and I’ll probably fail in every aspect of the word at it.

    Oh, I doubt it sweets. 🙂 Being Christian, I don’t believe in Karma. It ran over my dogma, so I don’t like it.

  5. Oh oh. Hope the chicken turned out alright in the end. I shall not tempt fate by saying I’m not too clumsy in the kitchen. My disasters are more of the overcooked, undercooked, under-salted, over-salted type.

    Actually, it turned out pretty doggone good. I mean, nothing I’d like to add to my regular repertoire or anything, but a nice, refreshing change. And I’m sure you’re a much more accomplished chef than I, dear Damyanti. 🙂

  6. Wow! You sound like me in the kitchen. I do well, but I also screw up well.

    Reminds me of the time I bought this fabulously expensive glass pitcher with coloured flowers and leaves etched into it. I completed the pitcher with 2 matching margarita and martini glasses, about $100 worth of stuff I couldn’t really afford. I very carefully rinsed out the pitcher and set it on the counter. As I reached for the paper towels, my elbow touched the pitcher which tipped onto the glasses and the whole lot fell on the floor and exploded. I had 1 glass left so I threw it on the floor, had a good cry and went in search of the broom.

    That sounds like almost exactly what I’d have done. Maybe I’d have HURLED the remaining glass into a wall, and would’ve SWORN at the top of my lungs instead of crying but overall, pretty close.

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