Well, technically speaking I can cook. I do it every day, because the authorities tend to frown on parents who let their kids starve. But I certainly don’t enjoy cooking and resent every milisecond I spend doing it.
Tonight was no different. I spent all of yesterday writing, all of last night pulling a graveyard shift, and all morning sleeping. Then, at around three-thirty, I realized that I hadn’t pulled anything out of the freezer for supper. And that I’d already shot my “fuck it, I’ll boil some macaroni and pour a jar of Prego over it” wad last night.
So, I rummaged through my fridge and found half a kielbasa. Yes, half a kielbasa. Half a kielbasa does not feed a family of four. So I rummaged around some more and found a ziploc baggie with chopped red/orange/yellow peppers inside it. (My husband chopped them up the other morning for, I think, an omelet, bless his heart.) And I found a Granny Smith apple. Actually, there was half a bag of Granny Smith apples. I bought it two weeks ago during yet another “Holy shit, my gall bladder is acting up again, I’m going to start eating healthy now, no, really this time I MEAN IT” spasm.
I chopped up the apple and kielbasa into pretty small pieces, then tossed them in a bowl with the peppers and put the bowl in the fridge so the flavors could mingle together. (TRUTH METER: After the exertion of all that chopping, I felt the need to unwind by watching last night’s episodes of The Daily Show and The Colbert Report on the DVR.)
After an hour of flavor-mingling, I sauted the crap in a pan (no oil required. We’re talking kielbasa, here) and spooned it (ooh! that sounds dirty) into some crescent rolls (people who hate to cook always have at least a dozen cans of crescent rolls tucked away). Then I baked it at 350 for eight minutes. Or it might have been twelve. Come to think of it, I have no idea how long it was in the oven. I just checked it every so often and pulled it out when it looked light brown-ish.
I wanted to serve it with a nice salad, but I didn’t have any lettuce in the fridge. So I popped some frozen corn (which is probably the least nutritious vegetable ever invented) in the microwave (which probably zapped what little vitamin content corn contains right out of it) and called it good.
Actually, it was pretty good. But someone really should call the authorities on me. Do it for my kids.
(Tomorrow’s post: Kel’s gall bladder finally packs up and calls it quits.)