I was being some kind of gastronomic genius in the kitchen tonight, cooking Tuscan chicken for Matt and I (that I picked up from my butcher already marinated - hello - I outsource, what's it to you?), and the kids culinary favourite... Sausages.
Simple task. Yes?
Er. No.
I got involved in some shopping of the online kind (Australian retailer FYI). Can you see where this is going? I checked the sausages a number of times to ensure they had the right sizzle factor. And indeed they did have the right sizzle factor - in fact they were just at the right time to take them off - but instead I thought "Hey - they'll be really good if I leave them for another two minutes." So I did.
Approximately seven minutes later Matt looked at the kitchen and went "Holy cow". Or something like that. It was filled with smoke and my perfectly sizzled sausages were transformed into perfectly cindered sausages. Just. Like. That.
The next 7.5 minutes involved me cutting off the charcoal pieces so that my children would actually eat something instead of the nothing they would have preferred.
The chicken on the other hand was a complete hit.
Tell me I am not alone in burning dinner. I informed Matt that if I didn't from time to time burn dinner, no one would appreciate when I didn't burn dinner.
True? False? Don't care?
PS - Did you know there's something called the Burnt Sausage Sea Cucumber? Nope, me neither. Until I googled images for burnt sausages. Here ends our lesson. Class dismissed.
2 comments:
Ohh i burn cakes allllll the time. pesky computers so distracting... *s*
My mother always burnt our sausages, I thought that was the way they were meant to be. Her worst effort was the time that she was grilling them in the oven, and hadn't bothered to change the foil for awhile, therefore the leftover fat heated up and caught alight, she opened the grill to check on their level of blackness and pulled out a drawer of flames, which she quickly pushed back in! My mother never copes with emergencies all that well, so with some excessive panicking and screaming the fire alarm going off and us five running in to see what was going on, my father came in and emptied an entire container of salt onto them.
Just then the door bell rang, my little brother answered, our neighbours were concerned as they could see smoke leaking out of the roof tiles. Mum decided the sausages were a write off, so headed down to McDonalds to pick up some dinner for us. Forgetting the saucepan in which she was boiling some vegetables in to go with the ruined sausages. So she came back to a blackened saucepan as well.
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