You remember Memento. It’s the movie told in reverse about a guy with amnesia who tattoos important clues on his body so he’ll remember them. .
Well, I Memento’d myself.
I wanted to cook something for a family Super Bowl party. I was flipping through a cookbook, and I found a recipe something called chicken, sausage and rice skillet that sounded really good and really easy, but then I noticed that I’d written a note to myself in the margins:
“NO.”
It was definitely my handwriting, and I’d underlined it for emphasis.
Apparently, I’d made it once before and thought it was so bad that I wanted to remind myself to never make it again, but I don’t ever making it, and I don’t know why I wouldn’t have liked it.
Chicken, sausage, onion, garlic, peppers, a can of chopped tomatoes, chicken broth, chick peas and spices, including turmeric, which is the only “unusual” ingredient on the list.
On paper, it sounded like something I’d like, although the kids probably wouldn’t eat it, because it didn’t contain either macaroni or cheese. I’m not crazy about chick peas, but I don’t hate them, and I could leave them out of the recipe entirely, but, no, that wasn’t good enough, apparently.
I’m taking my own advice — if I can’t trust me, who can I trust? — but it’s kind of scary to think I did something (stone-cold sober, I might add) that I don’t remember and that turned out so badly that I decided to warn myself not to try it again.
My daughter wanted my cookbook because of all those notes to self in it that I don’t remember making. It contains things like “Roy’s favorite” and “Absolutely worse.”
Smart kid. That’s like buying a used textbook because the previous owners have highlighted the important stuff.
Maybe it was meant to remind you that you made it for Super Bowl many years ago and your team lost? Might be a perfectly good recipe.
Maybe. I don’t want to risk it, though!
Maybe you were doodling absentmindedly while on the phone dealing with a telemarketer. Now the poor maligned recipe will never come alive! There must be some group concerned with recipe rights.
That’s possible, but I’m willing to take that chance!
I have a recipe card in my box with a similar note on it. When I found it, I wondered why I just didn’t throw that card away. The card is still there, of course.
Ha!
I think you’re smart to take your advice. The underline shows a level of certainty that you don’t want to run afoul of. Why cook it and remind yourself?
Exactly.
Oh, I do that as well. I’d take your own advice. Although I have to agree it sounds like it should be edible…
It’s a slow-cooker recipe, too, so I’d hate to wait 8 hours to find out that I should have taken my own advice.
This made me laugh. I’m glad you took your own advice, though I’m curious about the NO as well.
I think it’s one of those mysteries that’s best left unsolved.
Well, at least it wasn’t ambiguous.
I’m nothing if not unambiguous.
Ah, man. Bad call. Chick peas are wonderful. Hummus is a staple in my diet.
I love hummus, too, but something about that combination just didn’t cut it, apparently.
I do a similar thing on recipes. But instead of “No,” I use a huge X through all of the ingredients.
Maybe it tasted ok, but it was entirely too much chopping?
See, I couldn’t make a big X because I had defacing books. That little X is about the most I can handle.
Maybe next time just rip the page out of the cookbook!
And deface a book?!
Well, sure. It’s not like you’re in Catholic school and the nun is going to rap your fingers
I loved this and unfortunately, it’s because I can relate. I think your issue with the recipe was the slow cooker. Do it in cast iron and you’ll be fine.
That’s a good idea, Tammy.