The day after, part II
My breakfast this morning consists of turkey enchiladas. I made these with my own little hands, and they ain’t too bad, if I do say so myself. I made them with the remains of the beast bird that was our main coarse at the holiday feast. Twenty-one pounds of bird leaves for a lot of leftover meat, and I wanted to make use of this wealth.
This also makes for a HUGE pan of enchiladas. I bet that bugger was ten pounds when it left the oven. We are going to be eating a lot of enchiladas or throwing out turkey in just another more labor-intensive form. I guess that I underestimated the meat or overestimated my interest.
This breakfast put me in mind of years past, in another marriage, when the spouse like unit would make things from the turkey that would not pass as dog food, yet insist we had to eat it and act like we liked it. Green chile turkey stew by the gallon. Good for the first bowl, lost any attractiveness after the second, by the third you would rather strangle yourself with your own intestines than to eat another bite or even smell the fowl concoction.
She had another recipe that came back to haunt us every turkey day. It involved mushrooms and sherry. Over the years, the quantity of sherry grew larger while the flavor grew more and more repulsive. It got so that I could not stand to smell it being prepared, and to this day I find the odor of cooking sherry to be disgusting.
Then do it all over again for Christmas.
Now I find myself doing the same thing, preparing vast amounts of food that will probably soon become repulsive. I, at least, am aware that my fine endeavor will become less than attractive and will not pitch a bitch if the remains become refuse. Hell, I will probably be the one to toss the shit out.
The difference being, that I will not get my feelings hurt if the family does not think that my attempt at cooking is manna from heaven. It kinda takes the enjoyment out of a meal if the cook DEMANDS that you enjoy it. Trust me on this; my ex could make punishment last a L-O-N-G time if you inadequately expressed your delight.
So here I sit, sharing things from my past, and knowing that when MY food becomes unattractive it shall go to the place where crappy food belongs.
NO, I am not talking about my ex’s house. (But it IS a thought)
I mean the trash.
What do you do with your leftovers?
This also makes for a HUGE pan of enchiladas. I bet that bugger was ten pounds when it left the oven. We are going to be eating a lot of enchiladas or throwing out turkey in just another more labor-intensive form. I guess that I underestimated the meat or overestimated my interest.
This breakfast put me in mind of years past, in another marriage, when the spouse like unit would make things from the turkey that would not pass as dog food, yet insist we had to eat it and act like we liked it. Green chile turkey stew by the gallon. Good for the first bowl, lost any attractiveness after the second, by the third you would rather strangle yourself with your own intestines than to eat another bite or even smell the fowl concoction.
She had another recipe that came back to haunt us every turkey day. It involved mushrooms and sherry. Over the years, the quantity of sherry grew larger while the flavor grew more and more repulsive. It got so that I could not stand to smell it being prepared, and to this day I find the odor of cooking sherry to be disgusting.
Then do it all over again for Christmas.
Now I find myself doing the same thing, preparing vast amounts of food that will probably soon become repulsive. I, at least, am aware that my fine endeavor will become less than attractive and will not pitch a bitch if the remains become refuse. Hell, I will probably be the one to toss the shit out.
The difference being, that I will not get my feelings hurt if the family does not think that my attempt at cooking is manna from heaven. It kinda takes the enjoyment out of a meal if the cook DEMANDS that you enjoy it. Trust me on this; my ex could make punishment last a L-O-N-G time if you inadequately expressed your delight.
So here I sit, sharing things from my past, and knowing that when MY food becomes unattractive it shall go to the place where crappy food belongs.
NO, I am not talking about my ex’s house. (But it IS a thought)
I mean the trash.
What do you do with your leftovers?
posted by MizfiTroll at 8:10 AM
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