I got to spend all of Canada day by myself (ok – I had the assistance of a fuzzy monster or three, as is the rule) in one of my favourite places in the whole wide world, doing one of my favourite things ever: in my kitchen, mucking about.
It was a very welcome change after June, which was a terrible, horrible, no good month that left me stressed-out, people-out, and generally crankxhausted (that’s like hangry, but different) with anxiety topped with anxiety about my anxiety (seriously, fuck anxiety). I’d reached the point where I was wishing my mister would take off for a day and he’s, like, one of my favourite people ever and we pretty much stay out of each other’s hair even when home together (ah – the bliss that is each of us having our own nerd cave), so that’s saying A LOT.
Luckily, the planets aligned and the universe showered me with 12 blissful hours sans human contact and it was a total bust.
I’m sorry to shatter your illusion, but I screw up.
On the roster of things I wanted to make were samosa.
I use this recipe:
You’re welcome. That recipe is all about the dough. It’s smooth and tangy, as bake-able as it is fry-able, and I’m totally tempted to do another batch with a pork filling.
I should have deep fried, but was too lazy to clean my wok, so I shallow-fried them in a cast iron pan and…well…they got…soggy…and a bit burnt.
Look past the burnt, soggy bits and see what I mean about that dough, though? All golden-brown and blistered. It’s seriously the cat’s pyjamas of samosa dough.
They’re still delicious, but not as crisp as they would be had I deep fried them.
My next screw up was the bouillon, which I was really excited about because it contained rib bones and smelled sooooooo good while it was cooking, but I burnt it, too.
One minute, there were four inches of liquid in the pot, the next, there was a sticky, gooey mess at the bottom of the pot. This is how good I am at following my own instructions.
The one thing I did get right was a pretty stellar potato salad that I put together for supper tonight. I don’t care what your potato salad recipe looks like, that day before prep thing is key to a really, really good one.
I also got some chicken soaking in faux buttermilk (milk + 1 tbsp cider vinegar) for fried chicken to go along with it.
So there you go, not everything I do in the kitchen or elsewhere, for that matter, is golden, but I ain’t even mad. It was time, energy, and resources well-spent because I enjoyed it all.