This Is What Happens When You Cook During Crazy Time

Before we get too far, I want to state that despite the following story, and despite the fact that I can’t bake, I am generally considered by family and friends to be a good cook.

But more importantly, I am an adventurous eater.

So the other day, when a craving for Indian food hit, I decided to try making it at home instead of getting take-out.

I’ve never cooked Indian food before, but I didn’t let that daunt me.  I found a recipe for coconut chicken curry, gathered the necessary ingredients, and began to cook.  The recipe called for (among other things) curry powder, which I was reasonably familiar with, and Garam Masala, which I was not familiar with. 

It also called for optional red pepper flakes.  My family, even the girls, like a little heat in our food.  In went the red pepper flakes.

I also took the initiative to add some frozen peas to the curry.  My girls love peas.  When Preschooler was a baby, she’d eat an entire can of peas in one sitting.  In went the peas.

So far things were going exceptionally well, considering the time of day.

Four o’clock in the afternoon in my house marks the start of what I like to call, “crazy time,”  meaning the kids are hungry and they are tired of looking at me all day.  They are in no mood to listen, much less be jolly and entertain themselves quietly so I can make dinner. 

Because of this, my cooking skills have been lacking as of late.  If I was given some sort of Iron Chef challenge such as:  Here are some squid, eggplant, and chanterelles... what will you make?  My answer would probably be: frozen pizza.

But the curry was bubbling away, and my house was smelling AWESOME.  The last step - make some rice.

I put rice and water in a glass bowl.  The top for that bowl was dirty, so I covered the bowl with some plastic wrap instead.  I punched a few holes in the top of the plastic wrap for ventilation, and set the microwave to 25 minutes.

Thirty minutes later I checked in on the rice.  It had scorched.  And the plastic wrap melted on top of it.  I’M JUST THAT GOOD.

We ate our curry with tortillas. 

Well, at least Husband and I ate our curry.  After 5 minutes of chewing and sweating, we decided that maybe that extra red pepper was not necessary.  Preschooler picked at it, but didn’t eat any (which was fine with me.)  Toddler tried to eat it.  Oh how she tried.

You see, there were peas in the curry.  Beloved peas.  She’d reach in for a pea, eat it, grimace, and try again.  After 3 or 4 peas, her face was beet red, and she was visiablly distressed.  We took the plate away before she could inflict further damage.

Bon Appetit.