Ruminations of a Red Dirt Hussy

March 15, 2014

Embrace the kitch-astrophe

When my son Christian called me on my birthday, he recounted a recent altercation he’d had with a pressure fryer. Tammy, my daughter-in-law, was gone, and since there was no one there to stop him, he decided that it would be a pretty good idea to put some ribs and some water into that pressure fryer and cook them a while,  which he figured would make those ribs tender. So he did.

Then he started thinking, as he is wont to do. He told me exactly what he was thinking, but I can’t tell you because it was science. Just like I don’t speak or understand French, I don’t speak or understand science. I just know his pondering had to do with the fact that maybe there’s a difference between oil under pressure and water under pressure, and science science science science, maybe he ought to release some of the pressure.

So he did. A bunch of greasy, watery pressure. And now I guess he’s going to have to repaint the kitchen. “Man,” he told me. “I wish I hadn’t done that. Not just because I might have burned myself, but because I’d rather be watching someone else pull a dumb stunt like that while I sit on a bar stool in the kitchen and make fun of them.” Which he isn’t above doing. He was, after all, the sole person present when I blew myself off the porch. Stupid porch.

So that conversation led me back to, well, me, because everything does, eventually.

I often think to myself, “Self, you need to get a handle on these kitch-astrophes that keep happening when you try to cook.” I’ve considered having Jim put doors at the entries to the kitchen, lock them, and hide the keys. But when Christian told me what he’d done, I said, “Wow. I wish I’d done that.”

I realized if I didn’t try to cook I’d have precious little to blog about. It’d just be cat, cat, cat, serial killers, cat, cat, cat. So what I’m going to do is embrace the kitch-astrophes that follow me. Ok, fine. That I create. Satisfied?

Most recently, it was a run-in with Irish food. I’m invited to a St. Patrick’s Day party, and I’m not very Irish. Oh, all right. Not at all Irish. But in the spirit of the day, I wanted to take something Irish. I thought of green beer, but really. Is there any way I could make beer green that wouldn’t end up with somebody dead or, worse, alive with permanently green teeth? Then, I briefly considered Lucky Charms. Nope. Probably not even really Irish.

So I crept around on the Internet and found something called Irish Colcannon. Basically, it’s a dish for which you boil and mash up a mess of Repugnant Vegetables. Repugnant Vegetables are a class, like root vegetables or leafy vegetables, except these can be leafy or root-y and still fall into the Repugnant class. You also cook and mash up some potatoes, which are not repugnant, so I guess they’re there to leech some of the repugnant off the others.

RV one is leeks. Like giant green onions. You cook those in milk. Milk, people. Look it up if you don’t believe me.

RV two is cabbage. I’m not going to say a lot about cabbage, except that it’s possible a person could run up a huge emergency room bill because she thought she was dying, but really it was only cabbage doing what cabbage does when you eat it. I’m not saying that happened to me. I’m just saying it could.

RV three—parsnips. Really. A parsnip looks like an anemic carrot. It should be harmless, but don’t be fooled. If you were to wipe the sweat off your forehead (sweat due to cooking all this stuff), it might very likely come close to putting your own eye out (and by “your,” I guess I mean me). I am not making this up. Parsnips should definitely come with a black-box warning.

After you mash all that up, you throw a stick of butter in it. I guess that’s an attempt to help the potatoes mitigate the repugnance of the leeks, parsnips, and cabbage. I can tell you, though—not enough butter in the world.

Then you garnish it with parsley, which is very much like putting a bow on a turd.

Looking back on it, I guess the only kitch-astrophe is that somebody has to eat it. And by somebody, I mean anybody but me.

Now I see why the Irish are known for their troubles.





  1. There is no way you could possibly create these kitch-astrophes, so my theory is they are simply happening to you. I do have another suggestion for something green to share on St. Paddy’s Day. Colorado has recently legalized a substance that goes great in brownies and they’ll make you the star of the party. Just be certain to remove all the stems and seeds first. I have have some double album covers I’ll lend you for that very purpose.


    Comment by Michelle — March 16, 2014 @ 1:00 am | Reply

  2. You wrote “bow on a turd”. NOW I wrote it. Culture is carried in language, for sure! Add Squash to your RV list. Even the name is disgusting. And Pumpkin? Sounds like something you’d win with a claw.
    Wish you’d come to our meeitng tomorrow and watch our performance! I miss you!


    Comment by Pony-tail girl — March 17, 2014 @ 9:22 am | Reply

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