Impressed by the first ones I bought, I have purchased several more in different shapes, sizes and capacities in the last few years. My latest acquisition was a neat set of three nesting bowls - the Three Bears to my Goldilocks. I like things that look tidy.(Pity that hasn't extended to my home!)
The other day I was searching for a container for the frozen peas I was about to zap in the microwave. Having just yielded to an atypical urge to spring clean (I know it's autumn but autumn clean doesn't have the same ring) my kitchen cupboards were in spanking good order but of course I couldn't find anything and the sweet little nesting bowls seemed to call to me, 'We're here, we can help' so I gave in to their entreaties, selected one and plonked the peas in it (all my so-called cooking is characterised by 'plonking', 'shoving' , 'flinging' and the all-time favourite, 'caramelising' which means 'burning')
With the peas safely ensconced in the Baby Bear bowl I turned what little attention I could muster to the rest of the magnificent banquet I was preparing for the Lord and Master that evening - new potatoes with the last of the mint from the garden, frozen breaded haddock and a mélange (I can talk the talk if needs be) of stir-fried red pepper, (bell pepper) courgette, (zucchini) and red onion.
All was going swimmingly - that is to say that I hadn't forgotten any of the ingredients and the oven was at the correct temperature for a change. I cannot rid myself of the notion that turning the thermostat up to its highest will heat the oven quicker.Barry keeps telling me I am mistaken but I still have to give in to the urge. The trouble is that I
The first hitch occurred when I drained the potatoes. There, bleached and blanched at the bottom of the pan, lay a caterpillar. I couldn't tell what it might have developed into though guessed it was probably a Cabbage or Large White (Pieris brassicae) I was briefly tempted to scoop it out and try and forget about it but decided I couldn't. I asked Barry what he thought and we agreed that we would prefer our meal without potatoes that night. It's foolish in the extreme since around three quarters of the world's population regularly dines on insects of varying dimensions, many of them still wriggling around.
Following that I removed the bowl of peas from the microwave.
Oh dear! The peas now appeared to be vacuum packed. I could have sworn I had left the lid open.
Clearly I had not! Then, too late, I noticed the final instruction on the lid - 'Only re-heatable, not for cooking.'
Unlocking the Baby Bear bowl used muscles I didn't know I had. I was conscious that steam might well escape and scald me but it is
The peas were still edible, not exactly 'al dente' but not mushy either. I
What have I learnt from this experience?
1: Wash all garden produce thoroughly - make sure there's plenty of light to detect small unwanted visitors.
2: Read all instructions carefully even if I'm sure I know what to do.
3: Encourage Barry to cook more often - he's a much better cook than me, though that wouldn't be difficult. I mean, he tastes his dishes as he cooks and he's imaginative. For me food is just fuel and I cannot bear the orgasmic groans and sighs of delight that some folks utter when eating and the identification of ingredients as they sample each apparently delicious forkful. I'm just a philistine, really! (*wink*)