Bunions and Lemons, Getting Off On The Right Foot

Whew!  Sorry about going A.W.O.L.  I was in a much-needed time-out.  I have thought about my actions and I have learned a valuable lesson.  I need to drink more.  Then maybe people who jack my shit won’t bother me so much.  

In other news, I hosted a sort-of mini family reunion (by surprise), sent my kid off to 5^th grade, took a road trip with the ‘Mom Person’ and am currently trying to force-feed my skinny bitch sister a cupcake when she’s not looking.  I’m thinking if I tell her it’s the “new diet fad” she might eat it.  We’ve been separated for a couple of years and now that she’s back in town she weighs about a buck o-five-soaking-wet and I really dislike her for that.  I’m not being ugly; I’m just stating a fact. 

She’s getting a muffin and a Big-Gulp for Christmas. 

Oh all right, I’ll get over it.

Here’s my real topic: Cooking with Spanky. 

I’m not a Culinary Artist (unless taking the peel off an onion counts as art).  My chopping technique is hazardous, not only to myself, but also to anyone within a 15-foot radius of me and one time I forgot FLOUR when baking a loaf of banana bread.  That would be my awesomeness shining through.  However, when given proper instructions and assuming there is no time limit on how prompt something has to be prepared, I can be quite the Suzie Homemaker when I want to be. 

This last weekend I had company staying with me, and by company I mean my amorous sister who is a temporary paying guest and her youngest son.  I promised the boys (my nephew and my free-loader) that I would make a big breakfast on Sunday morning.  By “big” I mean the works; hash browns, eggs, sausage and pancakes – you know, your typical carb overload.  I later came to my senses and decided that pancakes and sausage would be sufficient enough to please the troops and opted to focus my exceptional cookery skills on my beloved pancakes.

I love lemon. 

No, my focus didn’t shift just now it’s simply just a testimony to my fondness towards citrus.  Especially when used in batter.

I purchased two perfectly proportionate lemons the day previous knowing that I was going to outdo Bisquick®.  I’m one of those “more is more” people when it comes to spices.  I’m a nutmeg, cinnamon and vanilla girl and during one of my pancake extravaganza’s, I was completely out of dry spices.  So in a pinch, I thought, maybe some lemon zest and frozen blueberries would do the trick?  It was a hit.  The freeloader loved it and Mr. Fricken Awesome was pleased at my flapjack abilities. 

Between you and me and this ridiculous blog? I was just throwing shit in and hoping it turned out ok.  But now that I’m educated in the art of pancakes and fruit, I decided that lemon zest is definitely the way to go. 

I got my griddle out, whipped up my batter, pulled my lemons out of the fridge and threw the sausage at my sister and insisted that she manage the links as my assignment was much more complex and required my full attention. 

My utensil drawer.  It’s more like a ‘catch-all’ for hand-me-down kitchen utensils that either doesn’t fit in my silverware drawer or on my limited counter space in a cutesy little container.  My kid just randomly throws shit in there as he pleases and I am forever wasting time digging through this drawer frantically looking for gadgets.  Last Sunday was no exception.  My griddle was hot, my batter was prepped and all I needed was to add the lemon zest.  I ripped open my drawer and did a quick scan of my inventory.  I saw a zester in there that I didn’t recognize.  Now, I thought back to the house full of people I had just two-weeks previous and decided, hmm some dumbass left their zester here – how convenient for me!

I snatched it out and started zesting.  Scrub, scrub, scrub … nothing.  Zest, zest, zest … nothing.  What the?  This zester sucks.  Maybe it’s one of those fancy-schmancy ones that trap all the goodies in like a pencil sharpener and you have to open it once it’s full.  Obviously.  I take the zester over to my sink and start trying to open it.  I inspect one side – no lemon.  I turn it over and inspect the other side, still no lemon.  I turn it upside down – surely there is an opening somewhere on this!

Shit!

On the front of my new (Finders Keepers, Losers Weepers) zester there was a logo.

I looked back at my batter, back to the FOOT FILE, back to my batter and GAGGED!  I ran over to my batter and started inspecting it.  Nothing.  Nothing?  Really?  Then I panicked.  I then asked my sister, “What does this say?”

Sis: What?

Me (showing her the file): THIS!

Sis:  Where?

Me (pointing to the logo):  Right THERE!

Sis: (Hysterics)

Me:  It’s not fucking funny!! I just tried zesting a lemon with a fucking foot file! What the fuck is a foot file doing in my utensil drawer!!

Sis: (Still laughing)

Me:  …

Sis: (Still laughing)

Me: Are you kidding me?  Did I really just do that?  Oh my god.

Sis (on the floor peeing herself): What were you trying to do?

Me: Shut up

At this point I tossed the foot file (still gagging) up onto the counter and revisited my utensil drawer for MY zester.  I zested my lemon and went onto make my now famous Lemon-Bunion Pancakes - smooth and tasty!

I’m off to Wal-Mart to get some toenail polish remover as we are having waffles tomorrow!