Hell's Kitchen

For tonight we have a very special dinner planned. If everyone will please direct their attention to our main oddity, the Volcano Cornbread.

There is not your ordinary cornbread, no my Hossman Family, this is superdad’s special concoction of bad cooking. What, Spices? No my dear family, superdad does not use any spices because they confuse him. I do not know the difference between oregano and basil. Does it have fire sauce, perhaps some jalapeños?

No my dear family, don’t be silly. That type of cooking would be way to complicated for superdad. How much would I put in? How would I know. Peppers of some sort—I wouldn’t no where to begin.

My dear family, take a closer look at my wondrous offering. Notice how the right side of the cake pan has almost no cornbread batter in there. Do you notice how all the batter has actually gone to the far side. And do you see that it is black on top. No, of course I don’t know how it got that way. Our oven is not slanted but yet, that’s the way it cooked.

And please notice the nice bubbling crest right in the middle of our slanted cornbread. You see how it has cooked so that there is almost a volcano like cylinder protruding, I did that. And that stuff bubbling out of it, it’s not some special cornbread sauce or crème de la French. It’s just plan old uncooked cornbread batter. For some reason, and I am completely clueless as to why, the outside of our special Volcano Cornbread is as crisp and blackened as rock heroin, but the insides remain as gooey as a jelly donut. You see, superdad cooks without the laws of physics. I defy all of the constraints that hold men down because I watch Star Trek and expect a replicator to produce all my food in it.

And this is how, me, Hossman, has continued to cook our family dinners for the last several months.

I tend to get home with Little Hoss around 5:30 or so while Hossmom gets home at about 7. With this arrangement, cooking the family meals has fallen to me.

And why shouldn’t it. Am I not a man of the millennium. Housework and child rearing do not scare me. I eat 500 yards away from 1000 Cubans trained to kill me, so why would I be afraid?

So I have taken on this chore but admittingly, without much enthusiasm. Because I do not like to cook. I find nothing relaxing about. I find that I do not care about it enough. I do not want to put the effort in to learn more about it. My 16 month old daughter could probably do as good a job as me. And I am oddly comfortable with that. I cook on Monday – Thursday and then on Fridays, I make my wife take me out to dinner. I will not be ignored, Dan.

But I do like to plan. Yes, planning and upper management. That is more my style. I will plan the week’s meals each Monday morning and then go shopping with Little Hoss. But what goes with what. Should we have mashed potatoes with tacos? Perhaps we should have salsa with steaks. The point is, I don’t know and I have never had to give it much thought.

Yes, I was one of those males that my mother cooked for me. She still will when I come over. She will make all my favorites, cooked just right. But sadly for me, I have never paid attention what side dishes she makes. I just knew that they were always there. It was mystical delivered by the fairy princess of dinners.

My wife can actually cook when she wants to and it is pretty good. She is a hell of a baker and makes some of the best desserts that I have ever tasted. Don’t ask me to reproduce them because we might have a trip to the ER as I may just add some rat poison thinking that it is powdered sugar. I am putting my whole family at risk.

But I do help out around the house and that means having a cooked dinner for my family every night so we stay away McCrap food. So tonight, I give you fajitas.

I was very focused on cooking the meat on the grill. Yes, this is where Hossman needs to be, in front of an open flame. The flame of power, cook my meat and bow down before me all those in the food chain. I am the meat master, succumb to me. I turned it over and I didn’t even burn myself.

And I have gotten smarter than my first couple of tries. This time I bought prepackaged seasoned meat. I know that there are health nuts out there that will want to stand in my way of using mass packaged meat as unhealthy and so uncouth. Blow me. Seriously, get down and blow me because this is what works for me. And as I am doing the cooking, blow me.

The meat went off without a hitch. This meal was going to be great. I spent a lot of time cutting up the chicken breasts with tender loving care. Until my wife asked me the following:

“What are we having with it?” she asked.

“It’s meat, what do we need with it.” I said.

“Did you get tomato, sour cream sauce, cheese.” She said.

“It’s meat, what do we need with it” I again responded.

So that night my family and I had fajitas without cheese, sour cream sauce, salsa, guacamole, or even tortilla chips.

Ladies and Gentlemen, may I present to you the Hossman Chicken Tortilla sandwich. It is healthy because it has nothing on it. That’s my reasoning. Yes, the chicken was slightly completely overcooked. But I guarantee no one will get worms from one of my meals.

I try and I try but I just can’t seem to get it right. Last night we had pork chops but for some reason I forgot that Little Hoss is now eating with us. What I used to cook for just my wife and I will no longer cut it. We had 4 of those really thin boneless pork chops. I love those things. Here’s some meat enjoy. I even took the time to marinate them in soy sauce, at the urging of my brother in law. But my fatal flaw came when I put them on plates.

Little Hoss gets one because she loves pork chops. Hossmom gets two because she is pregnant and eating for my next minion. So what does Hossdad get? 1 thin boneless pork chop. That’s it. I am the man of the house I demand that I treat myself better than that. And the mashed potatoes that were to come with it? There was a slight problem. I bought pre-made mashed potatoes. Apparently, they were supposed to be defrosted before they were cooked. After 35 minutes of duke nukem in the microwave we were left with an inedible paste and a huge rock of still frozen potatoes. They were inedible.

And the green beans, should superdad at least get some green beans? Well, there was an “accident” with the green beans. I suspect a conspiracy from Hossmom and Little Hoss. After they both got their helpings, the rest mysteriously were “dropped” on the floor. So I had my meat stick, that’s it.

But superdad has a trick up his sleeve. It is a trick that every child will love him for. It is a technique that I learned many years ago in college. It is a trick that Little Hoss will one day come to know as I will pass this secret knowledge down to her.

Hello Mr. Fruity Pebbles. Why yes, I would like two bowls full thank you. I am Gordan Ramsey. Move your arse.

No comments:

Post a Comment