It’s not really a secret, but my social life hasn’t been much more than my enjoying my alone time recently. I've embraced my inner introvert and have been getting lost in my own thoughts and manufacturing my own entertainment. It’s not a bad way to live, but after a while not only do people start to take it personally, but eventually the hunger for human contact drives me to stick my head above water.
Instead of above water, I guess you could say I’m sticking mine into a pot. A pot of spaghetti sauce. Even in my most hermity moments, I do still enjoy company. So, this Sunday, as a coming out party of sorts, I’m having my spoken word group over for dinner. It’s Friday, and I’m getting started early. I don’t want to have to do all my cooking on the day of, so tonight, I’m making the pasta sauce. It’s not entirely from scratch like the last batch I made. So, instead of blanching tomatoes and peeling them over the sink, I opted for canned ‘maters.
First of all, when my neighbor returned my can opener and told me that it sucks, she was wrong. It’s not a can opener, it’s a failed steampunk project. Someone glued some gears on a couple of plastic sticks and gave up on making anything costumey or useful out of it. So, I got to open two 28 oz cans of tomatoes with one clench at a time. If my hands were my pelvic floor muscles, I could blow smoke rings with my vagina about now.
After plopping the tomoatos into a large stock pot and wiping the splatter off my shirt, it was time to mince up the add ins. I opted for some fresh garlic, baby portabella caps, and a small onion. The mushrooms surrendered to my knife without much fight, and they went into the prep bowl. Garlic is one of my favorite spices to work with, mostly because peeling them can involve smacking the shit out of them with the flat edge of a knife to get the paper off of them. After a shit day at work, I often have fresh made garlic anything. Call it food therapy, if you will.
The onion presented a different challenge. Not that chopping one is hard, just that I hate the burning sensation in my eyes that a fresh white onion causes. Being fresh out of gum to chew to see if that makes a difference, I had to take a different tack.
I’ve been mulling over making up a steampunk outfit for some time. I’m suffering from creativity block when it comes to mechanizing my look. But, that didn’t stop me from buying the requisite goggles. They were conveniently located on my bookshelf for absolutely no logical reason. Suddenly, they became a kitchen utensil. I give you, cooking with Ephemily, the cover of any future cookbook I decide to make:
I wouldn't recommend using goggles for chopping more than one or two small onions, but in all, it worked pretty well. I could get through the one I needed to with minimal stinging, and a heck of a selfie to go with it.