Where there's smoke I was too lazy to clarify my butter

Good news: our first stint as playdate hostesses passed without any significant trauma or breakdowns. I was a little concerned that our house wasn't really toddler-ready, since my strategy in dealing with Anna so far has been to randomly move one small item at a time to higher ground. And I think when someone asked yesterday if my kitchen was baby-proof I gave her a "sort of" hand wave, which for future reference means: "couldn't be less baby-proof if I had a tiger crammed in the dishwasher." But still nothing disastrous, and I don't even think anyone drew blood. So there's my rousing endorsement for bringing your child to my house. Chances are neither of you will leave bleeding.

I was also wondering how Anna would deal with sharing her toys. Generally no problem, but when it came to the Big Red Car, she got a little protective. She didn't seem to mind if another kid sat in it, but she sort of hovered the whole time all, "Dude, please be careful with the clutch."

She's just checking to make sure nobody messed up her ride.

What do I do at the end of a long hard day? I eat eggs for dinner. And I suggest you do the same. In this case, we had hard-boiled eggs in a Moghlai sauce from Foolproof Indian Cooking. I'm making sure to specify the name of the sauce, because when I told Dan we were having egg curry he promptly informed me that "Alton says there's no such thing as curry." Sassy! And kind of inaccurate. But you can rest assured I'm being kept on my toes around here as far as nomenclature goes.

So I guess I'll also tell you that the flatbreads I made were called parathas and that they were aaaawesome. But if a recipe says you can use either melted butter or ghee, please use the melted butter if your greatest desire is to fill your home with smoke. Otherwise, ghee it up.

Six melted tablespoons of Giant Mistake.

If you were in the neighborhood last night and were concerned that our sofa was on fire, it was just this.

Unfortunately, some of the tastiest things are the least interesting-looking, but I really loved this dish and will be giving it a permanent spot in my Things to Smother Eggs With folder. I keep that one in the Happy Drawer of my filing cabinet, between Bad Reviews of Movies and Cheese: Practical Applications.

Enjoying her Indian food or just relieved that I didn't burn the house down?

1 comment:

  1. For those still keeping score at home, our over-the-stove vent fan sucks poorly. Which is the worst kind of sucking.

    ... now I feel like I should do something about it. I thought commenting on blog posts was supposed to make you feel like you *had* done something?