I don't cook on a regular basis. Usually my roommate makes dinner for us and usually he does a darn good job. He gets home earlier from work than I do, so it makes sense that he starts cooking when he's hungry and it's done shortly after I get home. (I know, idyllic.) More importantly, he enjoys the art of cooking. Me, not quite there yet.
Tonight, however, we switched it up a bit. He was busy working on a report for work and when I asked him what was for dinner, he walked me to the refrigerator. There, ice-bitten, plastic-wrapped and highly marketed were meals with "Done in 5 Minutes!" and "Flash Frozen Vegetables" written proudly on them. What does that even mean?
As he pondered which option sounded better, I interrupted his thoughts and asked him how much sodium was in package #1. 42% PER CUP. Yikes. There weren't many other options though. I hate going to the grocery store and our regular weekly trip hadn't happened. Hence, the frozen dinners that he picked up a few days ago. I refused to eat those things though and poor roommate was a hungry man. It was looking like a cereal-for-dinner kind of evening. And then. . .
Vegetables! We had vegetables. Surely I could concoct something up. I started cutting, threw them on the stove, and continued to brainstorm what the green peppers and onions would become. After stepping outside for a minute I returned to a smell similar to fajitas. Fajitas! That's what they will become! I went to the refrigerator. Chicken, we have chicken! Some tomatoes, those should do. Tortillas, yes! I went to work. Two skillets were going, the cutting board was covered, and the roommate hollered that it was smelling good.
You can guess the general outcome of the story. I cooked the veggies. I cooked the chicken. And then I (over) cooked the tortillas. They were crispy. Oops. Still, I prepared our plates. When I apologized for the crispy tortillas, Mr. Roommate said he likes them like that. "It's like a tostada." Except these weren't tostadas. They were fajitas. Well, at least they were supposed to be. And so fajadas were born. I was pretty pleased with the outcome until he ruined it with, "It's amazing actually. You're going to have to start cooking more often." Blast.
Five days ago we had eight green tomatoes growing to be big and strong (and red). Today, all of them are gone. When I asked the roommate what he thought happened to them, he said it didn't look like an animal ate them--must have been a person. I took him seriously. When I later expressed concern about what type of (mean, selfish, creepy, dumb) person would be close enough to our house to steal all of our tomatoes, his response was, "Darling, as flattered as I would be if they took them, I don't think anyone would want our tomatoes." Brutal.