I actually can cook, when I feel like it, and when I’m paying attention, and this week, I’ve had the time to do it. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, and usually… well, a protein bar and a vitamin pill counts, right?
No. Apparently not. I’ve spent the last week scrambling eggs in buerre noisette, and feeling all the better for it. I’m not sure if it’s the ritual of cooking, itself, or the food, or some combination of the two, but I haven’t burned the house down, and I feel pretty good.
I spent most of my childhood being admonished about how easily butter burns. I’m not sure anyone ever mentioned how tasty it could be. But they did mention that you can fix that by using margarine. Or lard.
Greetings from the land of solid, nutritious, and mostly-safe food.
You just don’t ever-under any circumstance-allow other people in your kitchen. Yes, fine. I know they’d tell me the butter is burning, and probably turn the heat down for me so fast I wouldn’t even have a chance to stop them. Yes, fine. Margarine. Uh-huh.
They’ll eat it, anyway, and tell people you’re a good cook.