Table of Contents

    Musing: Kitchen Mishap

    When I worked in Corporate America, I traveled extensively. Nearly every week, I was on airplanes traveling all over the world, so I missed most dinners at home. Today, my Ever Patient Partner In Life and I have dinner together every night.

    Some nights, we eat out. Others, we cook. We enjoy concocting our meals, starting with recipes and adjusting as we see fit. And we each have our roles.

    EPPIL is the chef, responsible for the main courses. I am the sous chef.

    As I’m apt to do, allow me to share a little etymology. Sous is a French word meaning below or under and comes from the Latin subtus or in a lower position. So, yeah, my job is to do as I’m directed. I’m fine with that.

    Specifically, I’m responsible for the prep work, sauces, and cleanup.

    This long-winded introduction is my weak attempt to explain why I shouldn’t be blamed for this particular kitchen mishap. I haven’t been successful with this defense, but I’m trying.

    My work on the night in question lay spread in front of me for slicing, dicing, and mincing. EPPIL prepared a pot of boiling water, preheated the oven, and then peeled a ginger root so that I could mince it at the proper time.

    I set up my cutting board, extracted my knives, and started, as I often do, with the potatoes, cutting them into small chunks. They were added to the boiling water while I minced the garlic and shaved the Parmesan to be added with butter and cream for mashed potatoes.

    Brussel sprouts were trimmed and sliced, tossed in a light balsamic, and placed in the oven for roasting.

    Peppers were diced, onions sliced, and mushrooms trimmed and sliced for sautéing a vegetable medley.

    And, finally, I turned my attention to preparing the sauce of honey, hoisin, soy, and chili-garlic for the pork chops. I just needed to mince that ginger to get started.

    Except I couldn’t find the ginger.

    At a moment like this, you’re faced with a choice. If I announce that I can’t find the ginger, EPPIL would turn around and spot it in three seconds or less. Trust me, I know this.

    Years ago, I was standing at a supply closet in an office looking for a particular item. I called out to the office manager that I couldn’t locate it. She walked over, moved one item, and pointed. She returned to her desk, muttering how men, particularly her husband, always open a door, announce they can’t find something, and wait for it to magically appear.

    I’ve met her husband. A highway patrolman. Can spot a criminal a mile away. Can’t find anything in the kitchen either. 

    Anyway, I opted for searching rather than asking for help. I moved vegetables around. I checked the trashcan. Not only that, but I even opened the knife drawer on the off chance I put it there. When I exhausted every option I could think of, I reported the missing ginger.

    EPPIL searched. We both searched. We both remember EPPIL peeling the ginger root and placing it right there on my cutting board. Right beside the potatoes I was cutting.

    Oh.

    A peeled ginger root bears a passing resemblance to a diced potato.

    Don’t argue. Go with me on this.

    We fished through the boiling water of potatoes. After a bit of searching, we found a ginger root. Extracted it. Diced it. Made the sauce.

    The mashed potatoes, of course, had a distinctive ginger flavor. For the record, not bad. We might try it purposely next time.


    Enjoyed the Story? Try a Novel

    If you enjoyed today’s musing, please consider reading one of my novels. Each standalone book tells the story of big lives in a small town, ordinary people facing extraordinary challenges.

    Click for more info

    On The Website This Week

    Much of my reading this year has focused on non-fiction and craft books, so my novel reading time has been slim. I did, however, finish Jeff Abbott’s Ambush of Widows this week and think you might find it enjoyable.


    Gratuitous Dog Photo: Those Accusing Eyes

    Why haven’t you done as I commanded?

    One look from His Royal Highness Little Prince Typhoon Phooey speaks volumes. He expects his world to work always in his favor.


    Until Next Monday

    Remember to follow the recipe this week. Or not. Sometimes, the mistakes make life more exciting.

    See you next Monday.

    Subscribe to the Random Musings

    Want to be sure never to miss a Musing? Subscribers will be notified when I post a random observations on life or a short story. The email is absolutely FREE and you my unsubscribe at any time.

    6 Comments

    1. Debbie & Miss Ruby on February 27, 2023 at 7:49 am

      Ty is mad because Ruby is getting more snow!! It is so funny the little things that can happen in the kitchen.. Roasted sprouts are the best ever.

    2. mary michaud on February 27, 2023 at 8:05 am

      I somehow thought we would hear a different ending to this story, maybe how one of the pups counter surfed and hid it elsewhere

    3. JEAN BURKHARDT on February 27, 2023 at 8:05 am

      I CANNOT stop laughing Hu-Dad!!! I have to say that your Monday Musing start my Monday’s off with a BIG laugh(SORRY). I guess I will say that it’s POSSIBLE(maybe) to see the ginger root as a piece of potato. Were your glasses steamed up??? My husband suffers with the same thing-he says he absolutely cannot find something and I locate it in less than 5 seconds-lol

      Typhoon of course expects everything to work in his favor-he IS royalty!!!!!

    4. HokiePack on February 27, 2023 at 8:19 am

      Ty is upset as he could have found the ginger with one sniff saving Hu-Dad from the Men cannot ever ever ever find anything ???

    5. Susan on February 27, 2023 at 10:03 am

      My cooking mishaps don’t usually turn out well. Glad yours did!

    6. Lori Burton on March 2, 2023 at 12:29 pm

      At my house, we refer to situations like the misplaced ginger as a, “WHAT was that?” in reference to the paranormal shows my hubby watches which I hate

    Leave a Comment