Cabbage

Easy enough. Learn to cook. Make something edible. I got this.

Despite my warnings to the contrary Phoenix thinks his pep talks will teach me how to cook. Like it’s some mental block in my head. Or I’m too lazy to dump a few things in a pan. Hopefully, after countless efforts to convince him otherwise, I went a bit too far last night. He was out of town to witness the aforementioned event that would occur. But the aftermath will forever leave its mark.

Egg roll in a bowl. Sounds catchy. Follow that by a 3-ingredient Trader Joe’s magic recipe and this is something I think I can do. Only one way to find out. I may be slightly excited about this one. Foolproof.

Most people would have taken their crisper graveyard as a sign that things that go in, end poorly. But if I were a cook, I might know that already. The crisper – meant to sustain. Mine – pilfers. Classic oxymoron.

I begin by laying out all of the spoons, cups, spices, meat and vegetables so I don’t have to take the time to leave the food on the stove unattended. I even hand-grated some ginger and used garlic which is unheard of for me. Garlic is one of those good versus evil spices. Not enough means less flavorful and too much equals an aftertaste that lingers entirely like a bad 3-hour movie.

I was going to foolproof this sucker. It looked like a smart tidy counter with everything but the spices premeasured in those little ramekins that cooking show hosts use. Overkill if you ask me.

I put the ground turkey in a pre-greased pan because the nonstick has worn off the pan. Um, pausing this sentence for a moment…

It’s the next morning and I forgot to put the food away overnight. Yeah that’s exactly the ending Operation Cook Chaos deserves. The sequel will be, “Leftover Cabbage- Danger or Delish”.

Long story short since it’s now 6 hours later from when I put the food away. Why? Because I’ve been working my ass off on the 4x8 spot that was a cabbage bag. We’re sorry to see you go cabbage bag but you were bad for the environment anyway.

I also finished’ish the garage, de-anted the kitchen since there was another baby ant on the counter. They grow up so fast don’t they? It was so tiny 2 days ago and now it’s like a teenager. Bold like one too. I severely dislike them. So every counter dings with that little spot of sunshine right on the corner that indicates, “Check me out. I sparkle.” The noise of a cymbal was only in my head but at least it showed up.

The one thing I didn’t grab to put out on the counter for my cooking show, sans ramekin, was the bottle of sauce – basically 1/3 of the recipe. No biggie. It was right behind me. I had just dumped the cabbage in so I had a few spare seconds. I turn to the pantry, grab the sauce, turn back around, and see the mayhem. The cabbage bag and me with no preparation for this scenario. Instinctively I grab the bag. Son of a b’. It’s so hot and the plastic melty spots now seared my fingers like a hot dog on a grill. Nah, it wasn’t that bad, but the point is not to grab hot melty plastic bags kids.

What next? Do I scrape it while it’s hot?

What’s happening to my cabbage I had dumped onto the meat?

There’s so much of it.

Must check bag to see if I added too much.

To do that I had to grab the bag again. So of course I did…again.

Uuugg. Focus. I grab a cup to scoop and it’s worthless. I palmed about 4 handfuls of cabbage and dumped it in the sink. I had used 4 oz too many.

So now the bag sat beside the burner still but at least not on it. The sink full of cabbage. And this giant rectangular spot still melting. I have the pan half on the burner now.

Quick like ninja I grab the spoon we use for rice. It’s plastic so it won’t scratch the glass surface. I begin to scrape at it, hard. It took about 30-40 seconds before my light bulb turned on.

Plastic? Genius.

I still have rice to cook. Microwavable, for safety’s sake. The pan is still half on the burner, so I move it to the back. Surely that’s genius.

I toss in the rice since the only saving grace was that it took 3 minutes to cook. Thanks Joe. You’re crazy but you’re cool.

Stir, stir, mix. The cabbage is doing what it’s supposed to do. I season again because it needs more. Almost done. Rice is in.

There would be no rice fluffing, no light airy grains. Just a wet thump in the pan. Mix, mix, stir. One thing at a time. This dish may have won the war, but I’ll call it 50/50. Fair enough.

After the smoke settled and the crackle faded, I wondered – was this a metaphor for my life? I try, but the cabbage always wins. Plastic is bad for the environment. Am I the bite that turned out right? Maybe the trick is to leave the kitchen when you smell smoke. Or maybe it was just mixed feelings about my smoke detector no longer working. On one hand, more mayhem. On the other, too late. Baggies outrun alarms any day. In the end, no sane metaphor – only that making sense of the night was too much for this budding chef. Still, I nailed the seasoning. That counts.

I try it and holy smoke. Get it? The damn concoction was so freakin’ good. The world was now upside down. Nothing made sense anymore. But I ate like a logger after a long cold day spent chopping down trees. His name was Don.

And scene.