LJ-razz, 6.07.06: How I nearly burned down my kitchen after my first culinary school class

Dear Scotch the Dog,
I'm sorry that I broke my own rule, which I'd yelled at previous roommates about, and fed you hunks of lamb loin. It was a celebration! I'm sorry that I didn't take you for a long enough walk after work before leaving for the evening so you could clear things up. And I'm sorry that the resulting stain from your illness resembles Indonesia even after I spent almost two hours scrubbing at it. I've never really cooked Indonesian food. I don't really feel like it now.

Dear Dad,
Your broad German shoulders have been the showpiece of many poems that I, your proud daughter, have written in your honor. I don't even mind that I inherited your shoulders--wide like those of the water buffalo that you used to drive through the rice paddies back in the Philippines. I just hope Chef Bartz doesn't mind that I have to wear extra large chef jackets to accommodate my breadth. I will be sure to flex to prove to him that, yes, while the jackets are a bit long and the throat channel a bit wide, this is the size coat I need to wear. I will, however, hem the pants I found at the uniform shop. I didn't know that Dickies makes chef wear, and very affordable, at that!
Your Loving Daughter,

Dear Chef,
Our textbook is gigantic, so I'm glad you told us on the first day of class that we wouldn't use it at all because you supply all our text--you and your culinary brain. I didn't grumble the way the others did who bought the $100 book because I spent only $50 on mine when I found a stunning deal off Amazon.com. I have to wonder, though--if the textbook were a hunk of meat, how long would it take to cook. I know, I know--it would depend on the kind, cut, and cooking method. I'll have it figured out by the end of the class.
Your Student in White,
PS--What does the accompanying CD-ROM do? Is it like a cooking video game?


The kitchen sink.

Rosco the dependable toaster oven--it's a more dependable machine than the oven that came with the apartment.

Both sides of the pantry, presented through the magic of MSPaint.

The beginning of truly masterful culinary technique: Predicting your outcome.

And guessing right. Notice Scotch the Dog on the bottom right crawling along the floor to the nearest exit, just like I taught her. Actually, she's eating. Just like I taught her. Narf! I'm in the corner next to the door, wondering what happened to the step in the process where I avoid doing irreparable damage to the apartment. Yeah, that wasn't in the recipe unless it was somewhere between "1. Brown meat on all sides" and "3. Run for your life."

The worthwhile outcome. I almost hate to admit it, but I liked the potatoes more than the lamb, and they cost about $500 cheaper to prepare.

The subpar dessert, Mango and Raspberry Eruption, meaning I erupted, "I can't believe I paid five bucks for this sh*t!"


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