OUT OF THE FRYING PAN
I am here inside while the sun outside is shining, why you might well ask, the answer is simple but true to form I'm not going to let you get away with it that easy.
On Friday evening I decided that Chicken Fried Rice would be the order of the day, it is just about my favourite meal, so I did all of the preparation including pre-cooking the chicken, onions, garlic, chilli and lardons. The rice was already cooked and dried, “I was ready to rock so out came the wok” (just a smidgen of contemporary poetry for you). I had already beaten the egg to within an inch of its life so into the very hot smoking wok went the ground nut oil and with a flourish in went the beaten egg. It was at this stage that I found that far from being beaten the egg was very much alive and kicking and was lying in wait to spring an ambush on me, it fought back with a vengeance by spitting hot oil at me. Oh! Bugger you might think another shirt ruined, or even better thank god I’d put on my apron, none of the above unfortunately. Because of the very hot temperature I was committing the cardinal sin of cooking topless; the scalding hot oil has left a trail of small burns from my navel to my throat like little crusty atolls in a dark brown ocean. I could have gone medieval but in true British tradition I soldiered on and continued cooking the Chicken Fried Rice, which incidentally was delicious.
The upshot however is that I’m now spending my third day out of the sun and away from my beloved pool and the temperature is still in the high 30’s Pant Pant BOO! HOO!
There is without doubt a moral to the story and that is no matter how hot it is in the kitchen never cook topless, unless you're female (that's just a personal preference) and you're making a salad.
Tate 2009
I am here inside while the sun outside is shining, why you might well ask, the answer is simple but true to form I'm not going to let you get away with it that easy.
On Friday evening I decided that Chicken Fried Rice would be the order of the day, it is just about my favourite meal, so I did all of the preparation including pre-cooking the chicken, onions, garlic, chilli and lardons. The rice was already cooked and dried, “I was ready to rock so out came the wok” (just a smidgen of contemporary poetry for you). I had already beaten the egg to within an inch of its life so into the very hot smoking wok went the ground nut oil and with a flourish in went the beaten egg. It was at this stage that I found that far from being beaten the egg was very much alive and kicking and was lying in wait to spring an ambush on me, it fought back with a vengeance by spitting hot oil at me. Oh! Bugger you might think another shirt ruined, or even better thank god I’d put on my apron, none of the above unfortunately. Because of the very hot temperature I was committing the cardinal sin of cooking topless; the scalding hot oil has left a trail of small burns from my navel to my throat like little crusty atolls in a dark brown ocean. I could have gone medieval but in true British tradition I soldiered on and continued cooking the Chicken Fried Rice, which incidentally was delicious.
The upshot however is that I’m now spending my third day out of the sun and away from my beloved pool and the temperature is still in the high 30’s Pant Pant BOO! HOO!
There is without doubt a moral to the story and that is no matter how hot it is in the kitchen never cook topless, unless you're female (that's just a personal preference) and you're making a salad.
Tate 2009
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