vegetarian

I knew the oven was something to fear.

Posted on by bangscrafts

I have been cooking for three plus years now.  In my mind, on a professional level.  Ask my sister, she might agree.

Ask my ex-boyfriend how difficult it was to make a darn cucumber and cream cheese sandwich.  He used to insist on making them for me, based on how easily I would slice skin when trying to slice cucurbitaceae.

What you need to know is that when I was a non-descript young age, my wonderful father told me about how when he was stove-height, that the hot electric coils looked cozy, and he put his chin on them.  I’ve never seen my father without a beard, but that’s a scarring situation..

Ergo, I inherited a stove and oven fear.

Then I was destined to be in a relationship where I was forced to make food.  Up to being 22, I avoided the oven like the plague.  But how do you just sit idly by when the person you want to be with is only heating up circular bread with pasta sauce?  Especially when that’s one of your least favorites?!

My first meal cooked was something out of an easy cookbook Molly gave me.  My third recipe, I swear to god, were these veggie pesto eggrolls that my entire family hold me accountable for now.

I just want to remind you that I was initiated in the land of food by a horror story from my young father.

My mother can tell you much better about my fear; she would ask me to get things out of the oven in attempts to save me from what my fate at that time was sealing.

I suppose it takes dating a baby to realize how much of an adult you are.  Ex-boyfriend guy wanted to make a frozen pizza every night.

This post isn’t about him actually.  You know who it’s about?  It’s about me, and this great new person in my life named Otto.

Jims words

It’s actually mostly about the fact that I didn’t realize that my “warming drawer” is essentially just a drawer to being 400 degrees.

But I would also like to mention that I am clumsy as fuuuurrrk.

This amazing person I literally just met nearly took care of my finger better than I ever could.  First of all, how cool is it to meet a person who wants to do that?

Second is, how cool is it that you do not need help to live?  You just thrive on loving those who want to help you, and you wonder how you got so lucky to meet them.

Don’t place your chin on a stove.  Don’t finger hot hot pans.  Do be careful when you’re cutting gourds.  I am a great chef.  Please ask me advice on how to cook and not how to be hurt.

 

Those cheese slice papers are a metaphor for something….

Posted on by bangscrafts

Late lunches for me mean dinner will be an afterthought, or just a few beers.

I’m still up and dancing in my kitchen, the eleventh hour chimes, and as a video game character, my life bar just plummets.  Blearily, I fall out of my leggings and Star Wars shirt, envelop myself in flannel and four blankets, lay my head down and BANG.  Hunger strikes.

As a newly single, fantastic-cook, apartment-renter, I of course had a few things in my fridge.  The story behind that is the burrito place I set my sights on for that late lunch was closed, and feeling like everyone was looking at me thinking “Wow look at that weirdo girl meandering around,” I bee-lined it for the supermarket around the corner, instead.  (Side note: I have a stubbornness with a vengeance when it comes to choosing those hand held baskets instead of carts….”oh yeah I only need a few things….” Typical Shannon.)

Needless to say, I bought sandwich-makings.  Sandwiches are the universal equalizer, so you probably know the pieces parts.

So I went to bed.  I was swaddled in blankets and warmth.  But then my stomach protested in a way I could not ignore.  I’m a firm believer in NO FOOD IN BED (do you put salad dressing on your pillow….no? Well then duh, don’t eat in bed!)

I made a sandwich.

As a millennial, I would like to testify against Subway as the sandwich makers.  You haven’t met me…I AM the sandwich maker.

I have bread.  I have cheese.  I have protein (I’ll take this moment to introduce myself as a vegetarian.  Get used to it.) I jumped out of bed knowing what Shannon was capable of.

I’ll remind you here, I’m a new apartment renter, and I have a lot of boxes.  I can tell you one thing; I can navigate boxes well enough to sandwich-away my hunger.

I realize how simple it is to stack bread and cheese.

Pleeeeeease.

All week I have been playing box-dodging acrobats in order to make myself some version of dinner.  I’m beginning to see the word “Uhaul” in my sleep because of how many boxes I’ve been living with.  I don’t care to admit it, but some of them have bested me at times, and I might have a bruise or two.

And I did so I began stacking.  Starting at 11:56 PM.  I was so ready for this sandwich, I was ready for the bare minimum in sandwich arts.

(As a vegetarian I decided to buy the newest Tofurkey “deli meat” option….bologna.)

Stacking whole wheat, Havarti, and Tofurkey bologna is really something to be done in the light of day apparently…

I took a big bite.

First instinct was that Tofurkey should not make bologna.  I’m nearly fighting this damn sandwich.  It’s tough as hell….and as a vegetarian, processed fake-deli meats aren’t usually very tough at all!

Lesson learned at the end of this day?  Havarti, as a very soft cheese (of course) comes with those cheese papers….and I ate a good deal of them tonight.  I would like for you to know that they tasted awful, but mostly they were an inconvenience to my teeth.

Being an adult means sometimes eating cheese papers.  Try to tell me otherwise, my friends.