I Can Cook, Sort Of
I wanted to cook breakfast this morning, but our kitchen was inhospitable. Due to various infirmities on both mine and the Palinode's parts, the kitchen had fallen into a truly deplorable state, so I gave in and decided to do the one thing I truly cannot stand: wash dishes.
I did two loads of dishes, and as you see, it nearly killed me.
I know! Cooking! Me! It's a crazy, spontaneous thing I do now and again. I'll suddenly get it into my non-domestic head to prepare food for the Palinode and I, and then I'll find myself cutting up onions. My hatred for cooking is second only to my hatred for washing dishes, but that's how I roll when the mood for home cooking hits.
My limited cooking skills span three dishes: fried eggs, baked potatoes, and adding a good spice mixture to pre-made potato and cheese perogies. If you included all the stuff I made in home economics class in 1985, that list would be longer, but you have to take into account that there were three other people in my cooking group, and they mostly didn't let me touch the ingredients after we failed our first two assignments.
Back to the perogies: first, I chop up and fry a medium onion in butter.
I do have a reason for putting them upside down, though. It makes sure that they all get some of the buttery spicy goodness on their top sides before I first fry them on their bottom sides.
Yes, they must first be fried on their bottom sides or that whole head rotation/explosion issue comes up again. It can get ugly. Can you tell that I always cook alone? I don't even like it if someone else looks at the food I am preparing. I have been known to say on more than one occasion Would you STOP looking at the food. If you don't quit, you'll have to leave. I fear judgement of my fine perishables.