This morning, I found myself in the familiar predicament of having to use up a number of perishable items left hanging in the fridge for significantly longer than I am comfortable admitting.
Six of these items were eggs, and so I quickly decided on a frittata: This being breakfast, and the remaining leftovers being asparagus, half an onion, and about a third of a block of extra sharp cheddar cheese, it seemed the natural solution.
Perhaps less natural was my decision to prepare anything involving eggs at all. It is an undisputed (though untested) fact that a trained monkey could scramble an egg with more confidence and grace than I. And we won’t even go into the disastrous occasions on which I have brazenly attempted to fry an egg for a sandwich. Except to say again that they were disastrous. Disastrous cannot be over-emphasized in this context.
HOWEVER. After quickly scanning a few recipes, (and locating the broiler…right there at the top of the oven all this time! Who knew!) I dove right in, and am oh-so-thrilled to report that I DID IT! I FOUGHT THE FRITTATA AND I WON!
Not only did the end result actually in many ways resemble frittatas I have seen before, but it kind of tasted like one too!
* * *
In other news, Valentine’s Day happened. Little to report except for an incredibly romantic viewing of the animated classic “Surf’s Up”, during which the Boy drove me near-crazy oooohing and ahhhing at the enormous (cartoon) swell, and shouting things like “Sick!” each time the (penguin) protagonist barreled down the (computer-generated) tubes.
Which is not to say I didn’t find myself eventually joining in. Hey, those penguins surf circles around me.
I guess this growing-up is a gradual process. Right?
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