A moment of silence, please...
I have the shittiest luck with Swedish Meatballs. (Except for one in particular...) I've loved these things ever since the first time I had 'em, even though they are friggin' dangerous....
My first Swedish Meatball adventure happened while I was in high school. I even mentioned it under my yearbook picture.
I came home from God-knows-where now, and was hungry. This was when they came in bags that ya had to boil. So, I grabbed a coupla boxes and threw the four bags in the water and turned on the stove. I wandered into the livingroom and sat down to wait.
The next thing I remember is waking up to a house filled with this dense, tan smoke. My Dad was just getting home himself and woke me up. The lady who was living with us at the time, the same Carol from the 'deer-in-my-trunk' story, woke up thinking that Dad was cooking. My lungs felt like golfballs, so naturally, the first thing I did was light a cigarette...
Nobody got hurt, except the pan, the meatballs and my rep as a 'cook'. I still, to this day, get my balls busted about that.
Now, they done done it again.
This time, they killed my microwave. I was nukin' a container (and don't
even let me get started on that...smaller containers, less product, more 'price', eeeerrrrgggg) of 'em last night. I standin' there, waitin', when the microwave up and died. Right smack in the middle of the amount of time I had 'em in for. It went off, came back on, went off...the numbers kept fading away and coming back. I opened and shut the door, tried it again...nada.
Then...the smoke started. I do not fuck with electricity. I don't like getting shocked by electric fences, let alone a fuckin' household current, so I just sorta freaked a bit... "Ooohh, ooohh...it's smokin'! I need somebody to unplug this thing...Don't get fried, Eric...Lookit this thing...smokin' out the light hole...shit." Then, it occured to me...
How'my gonna finish my meatballs?
Now, before ya even think, "Well, ya retarded thing, there is an appliance called an oven...", let me tell ya...
Earlier in the day, I had made all those pancakes and shit, right? Well, at one point, I was trying to spread melting butter around in the frying pan-thing (it's one of those things that ya hafta plug the cord into and is kinda like a griddle/fryer/Hamburger Helper cooker thing...) and, anyway, I used a rubber spatula to do this, because the fryer thing is teflon. It melted my spatula. So, I melted a spatula already today and here I am with half hot, half frozen meatballs in a plastic container. I'm supposed to assume I can put plastic in the oven when I can't spread butter with a spatula? Please... Eric saved me again. He gets the box outta the trash and reads it to me like the moron I am...."Conventional Oven Cooking...Preheat to 325*, remove tray, cut coversheet, place on cookie tray and bake for 25 minutes..." (Twenty-five frickin' minutes? Jesus...) "Oh, okay, then..." It only took two semi-major appliances and 45 minutes, but I got me meatballs, finally...Jeez. I can cook 14 course breakfasts, pot roasts, regular dinners and all other manner of stuff. It's the farkin (easy) Swedish meatballs that trip me up....all but that one.
My own, personal Swedish Meatball.
Eric.
(Well...he's almost as goofy as I am and he is Swedish...)
You do the math.
Comments
Processing 0.0, elapsed 0.0048 seconds.
16 queries taking 0.0037 seconds, 7 records returned.
Page size 5 kb.
Powered by Minx 0.8 beta.