Being the thematic sequel to shopping.
Warning: I plan to start with a rambling bore and end up sticky. If you are the person who uses the phrase too! much! information!
, please skip.
Now I’m a bachelor, and living in an apartment with a fully-equipped and well-stocked kitchen, without anyone to tell me what I’m doing wrong, or that I’m making a mess. And there are some things (well, turkey breast) left over in the fridge which require experimentation.
So two weeks ago I made Schnitzels, and last week my thoughts began to wander towards a stir-fry. Sunday I went shopping, and bought cabbage and mushrooms and stuff, and Friday while shopping with my mum I picked up soybean sprouts. Couldn’t be bothered with the procedure on Friday (I settled for the quick gratification of frying onions, mushrooms, sausage and beans with eggs – neanderthal cooking), but Saturday morning, after dragging myself out of bed, I thaw the turkey and mix it with marinade and put it in the fridge, promising myself to do the stir-fry when I get back from my mum’s.
Except that I’d already set a date (two weeks ago!) to go out with friends in the evening, so instead of cooking, I hustled over to Arcaffee in Atidim. The friend who earlier this week googled his name and found my blog is the only place it’s mentioned on the Internet, and who therefore I will not name here, tells us about the apartment he’s renovating and his fight with the cheeky plumber who nicked a rubber plug from the place. My other friend tells of his acting aspirations, and how he still wants to try and pursue this dream even though he’s older, married, with two kids and an unsupportive father. I summarize my post-Suzie love life, which is more complicated than I’d expected, and which is simmering in my head the whole weekend.
I get home around 11PM, decide to load up the washing machine despite the hour, because I was hoping to be busy Sunday, and set about with the cooking. Got the big heavy frying pan (god-bless Moshe from SoftLink for that), got Sesame seed oil (god-bless Suzie for that), and got my mother’s advice: I do the vegetables first, than take them out, slice and fry the turkey, add the vegetables. Used most everything I had for seasoning (Soy sauce! Teriyaki! Worchestershire! Balsamic Vinegar! Black Pepper Powder! Garlic!). Came out pretty good! In my head, I compose a massive blog entry celebrating my culinary accomplishment. I hang up the washing, do the dishes, put the food in the fridge. Set my alarm clock for 6:45 in the morning, so I won’t miss the company meeting (although I have no idea when it’s scheduled). The cable box’s clock says it’s 3:00AM, although I suspect it might have been just 2:00, and the clock was confused by too many cat-induced disconnects.
I go to sleep, despite the protests of the cats, buzzing with energy but dead tired. I get woken up not by the cellphone alarm, but by a wet dream. Evil body. It knows, and doesn’t have to rationalize being wired with excitment. Thunderbirds are go.
Set the controls for the heart of the sun.