Chopped

Yesterday Joyce and I did our own version of the TV show “Chopped.” 

It began innocently enough.  I’ve just had a knee replacement and am not very mobile at this time.  I invited Joyce over to cook a spaghetti squash that I had.  I bought it sometime ago because it would look good in my bowl of fall veggies – squashes, potatoes, tomatoes, gourds and nuts.  My plan was to cook it after I tired of the decoration.  I think I’ve cooked spaghetti squash once before in my life so I did not feel up to tackling that dish.  My old and dear friend Joyce was up to the challenge and said sure, no problem. I might add that I thought she answered in such a nonchalant manner, I wondered if she really knew what she was doing.  Oh well.

She was supposed to arrive about 11 AM but instead called about that time to say she was in the middle of a project with her grandchildren (6 of them) and it would be 12 -12:30 before she got here. “Fine,” I say but I’m thinking – what about lunch?  I don’t see how this is going to work. I’m not energetic enough to think hard about it or make a plan – it will just evolve.

Joyce gets here shortly after 12 with apologies and a recipe.  We immediately determine that the meal she is going to fix will be dinner, therefore “what’s for lunch?”  Ok, check the fridge and find something.  She did and we had leftovers from the night before.

I showed her two recipes for spaghetti squash in two different cookbooks and she had a recipe.  My advice was “I don’t care what you do with it.  Whatever you figure out is fine.”  Meanwhile I rested in my easy chair, resting and being grumpy.  Joyce was in the process of picking and choosing from the recipes and making something.  I don’t know what all she put in the casserole but she raided the spice cabinet, pantry and the fridge.  After an hour or so she commented, “This is the last time I’ll ever cook spaghetti squash,” and she continued to mutter and mumble.  And I continued to grumble and grumble from my easy chair.

What makes this work is that we’ve known each other since our kids were little and they’re about 50 years old now.  Therefore, we don’t have to put on a pretty face or be nice & proper.  We can be just old us and its ok.

She kept remarking that she would never again do this.  And from my easy chair, I mumbled that whatever it was, it was ok.  Finally she said all done and put it in the oven.  Now it had to cook ½ an hour, I think she said. 

After careful calculation we decided we had enough time to watch a movie before she had to leave for another appointment.

I had nothing planned for the rest of the afternoon so we expected a period of uninterrupted time.  Now, under the best of circumstances the two of us watching a movie is an “iffy” experience. Neither of us really knows how to work a DVD – it’s a matter of trial and error.  We got it started, settled down – me in my easy recliner and Joyce on the couch. Then nothing went according to schedule – a friend stopped by, my tenant brought in a package and visited, the phone rang and future plans had to be changed.  You understand, each interruption means the DVD has to be stopped and started and I have to get in and out of the chair (slowly and with difficulty).  We have to find a flashlight so we can read the buttons on the machine.    With all the happenings, the movie was just lost in the shuffle.

About this time, Joyce says that it’s time to check the casserole. She checks it and tastes it.  She immediately realized that something was WRONG. She reread the recipes and realized that the squash was supposed to be cooked BEFORE the casserole was made!  After it was made, the casserole was supposed to cook another 30 minutes.  Joyce simply decided that the way to make it right was simply  cook it longer.  So back in the ovenl it goes.

Finally, she announces that it is done, she tastes it and says “You or I will never taste anything like this again!”  She prepares to leave and we realize that we will not get to see the end of the movie. Sooo – by now, we’ve forgotten what it was all about anyway. 

And so ends an afternoon when Joyce was the chef and was given a spaghetti squash to make something with.  It was a challenge.  I was like a judge – grumpy and cranky.  The conclusion was that spaghetti squash will never be cooked again by either Joyce or me. And that hopefully my disposition will improve.

We both agreed – yesterday should be “Chopped!”

As she left, she had the nerve to cheerily call over her shoulder, “And what would you like me to cook next time?”