Dang, I Hate it When That Happens

This is not a rant about anything political or anything really important. It is the saga of the frying pan. Several years ago, Barb let me buy some great cook wear with a good reputation (read fairly high price) and one I see quite often on cooking shows. (OK, I no remember it is Caliphon, I just couldn't remember the name and it was too far to walk all the way upstairs to get the right name) I have been working hard to relearn to cook on and with it. One big mistake was every once in a while, someone (who will remain nameless) would put it in the dish washer. Somehow the heat and the dish washing soap would take the non stick properties and stick them somewhere not to be found. Then, unless you treated it like a cast iron skillet things would stick all over it and it would take another trip through the dish washer to get it clean.

Not long ago, I seasoned the pan well, heated it until it smoked and announced the dishwasher ban on that pan. So far, it seems to be working if I take the time to clean it up after use and re-season it. In fact, it is doing so well that I can now cook bacon without the brown crust forming in the bottom of the pan and go from bacon to potatoes with grand results. In fact this morning, that is what I did. I find that cutting up russet potatoes and running them through the microwave first gives you a potato that is ready to brown in the pan and cuts the cooking time way down. Great results, hot oil and they crisp up and are done in the middle. I find that if I drain them on paper towels they are about the best home fries I have ever tasted. You salt them after you take them out of the pan. (Yes, I learned that from Emerald)

I was all set to move from bacon to potatoes and then into the egg omelet. Cheese, onions, salt & pepper on the top of the potatoes and it is just wonderful. I went to the fridge (Barb makes fun of me when I call it the icebox) to get three eggs to whip in a bowl. I had seen signs of cupcakes on the counter but didn't think anything about it. Yep'er boys and girls there was only one egg left. We buy 18 of them at a time and there was only one lone soldier left in the carton.

Barb just walked through and I mentioned to her that she was the subject of a severe blog rebuke concerning the egg matter. Her reply was a flippant, "Life is Hard".

Dang, I hate it when tht happens. (on both cases) OH well, I better find something important to do.


  1. I started nuking the taters after reading a post of yours a year or so ago, great idea! They cook faster and brown more evenly thanks for the great tip, I will know try the salting after they are cooked.

  2. Dang, I am hungry now. I call that cold thing in kitchen an "icebox" too. At least I left the term "Norge" behind.

    (It is probably dumb to clarify to someone that says "icebox," but there was a Dogs family intervention to decide between calling it the "Norge" or the "Frigidaire." Norge won in a landslide. I guess that I was about five years old at the time and my vote did not count.)

  3. Our first "icebox" was a natural gas Frigidaire. It always fascinated me that something that burned gas could make cold. Yes, I can positively state that the light goes off when the door is closed. Not something I want to do again but I did have to experience first hand. MUD