Well, if you claim not to do this (liar), most people have a fantasy camera crew following them around with a team of interviewers ready with questions on any topic in the world.
So, last night as I'm going through the steps to make the world's best pasta sauce, I get to the part where I'm crushing red peppers by hand. I tell my audience that they have to be sure to wash their hands after this step because they might rub their eyes and that would suck.
(I promise that these conversations only take place in my head. I don't speak the fantasy out loud. That would be insane.)
Then, because I had the worst sinus reaction ever yesterday, I eventually rubbed my nose. I, of course, had not washed my hands. Ny nose burned so much I thought it was going to burst into flames. I considered ripping it off my face, because I thought that would be less painful.
I got online -- as everyone does in an emergency -- and tried to find a cure for the red pepper that was melting my nose off of my head. Nothing. Everything I found was giving red pepper as the antidote, not classifying it as the cause of the condition. So I decided to suffer. I didn't really have a choice.
I continued cooking and I could never get the sauce quite right, but I was starving so I ate it anyway. Erica came home late and was cranky -- as she tends to be when hungry. And do you know what she said to me after she ate the first bite?
What is this Prego shit you're serving me?I wanted to kill her. I was also quite shamed. She followed it up with this someecard this morning.
So, to make it up, I told her I'd use the sauce to make lasagna tonight and that I promised it would be better. After work today I stopped by Russo's -- the best little Italian market ever -- and got more sausage and onions and the cheeses for the lasagna and I came home to cook.
I was doctoring up the sauce and decided to add a little more red pepper.
As I type this, I am again weighing the options of suffering, or just ripping my nose off my face.
Posts
