My fridge runneth over. Well, that’s not entirely true; it runneth over less than it did a few days ago. We’re doing a pretty good job of working through the leftovers, and I’ve already made several things OUT of the leftovers, and this week’s grocery shopping consisted mostly of milk and orange juice and bread. Because there’s tons of food here.
You would think that, after having cooked for a dozen people last week, I would want to STOP COOKING NOW. But if you thought that, you would be wrong, because I am mentally ill. Thanksgiving trips the MUST! COOK! center of my brain, and I won’t be able to stop until after Christmas. I don’t know why.
I mean, it starts with wanting to use up the leftovers. But from there it just goes completely off the rails.
Like today, for example!
Today I am making a quiche. Why am I making a quiche? I have no idea.
And quiche isn’t particularly hard, or anything. Particularly if you use a pre-made crust. Which I’m not, because I’m baking a quiche from scratch, because there is something wrong with me. It has something to do with a school event at a fast food place, and how I want to make sure Chickadee has something good and meat-free to eat before we go to it, and I had mushrooms in the fridge for turkey tetrazzini but have since decided to skip that and make the remaining turkey into turkey salad and so now I need to use the mushrooms and Hey! QUICHE! Why not?
And I am terrible with pastry. I mean, I’m a decent cook, and recently I’ve even come into my own with baking bread, but pastry crust? I have a veritable catalog of disasters. And they all end with a crust that looks and tastes like cardboard. But I can follow directions, and I’ve grown as a baker (oh, how I have grown as a baker… right into the next size of pants), so maybe I could do it.
I sliced my butter into teeny tiny cubes and put them in the freezer. I gently pulsed the flour and salt in my food processor. I added the butter and pulsed no more than the 7 times the recipe suggested. I started adding my ice water one tablespoon at a time. I was totally paranoid I’d add too much water, so when it began to look like it could be pinched together, I dumped it out and attempted to form a disc.
It kept falling apart.
But I was SURE that I could make it work. Hey, I’ll just wrap it in plastic wrap and pull it together that way! That seemed to work, and I got it into disc form and went to put it in the fridge.
While I opened the door, the disc spontaneously combusted. Seriously. It just broke all apart into its constituent crumbly little balls in such a way that the plastic wrap flew open and most of the crust hit the floor.
So then I had to 1) vacuum, 2) start over, and 3) mop. Except that I haven’t actually mopped yet. Because I suck.
The second crust attempt went much better. I tucked it into the fridge and came in here and did some work. And then I went back to the kitchen and sauteed some mushrooms. And then back in here to do some work. And then back into the kitchen to wilt the spinach. And then back in here to do some work. And then back into the kitchen to grate some cheese. And back in here to do some work. And then back into the kitchen to gingerly roll out my crust. And back in here to do some work. And—
Hey, I think I may have figured out why I’m so tired all the time!
Well, I’d tell you more about it, but I have to go get the quiche into the oven. And make that turkey salad. Which is no big deal, really… I just need to dice some celery and slice some grapes and cube the turkey and stuff. And last night we finished off all the pies, so maybe I should make some cookies.
Help me. I’m not right in the head.