Newly discoloured disgrace
I look at the picture and ask “What happened?”
Not “What is it”. I know what it is was. The mystery is why?
When I left home this morning, things were different. Among the useful tools in my kitchen, a (reasonably) non-stick pan, useful for all sorts of things involving food preparation. And since the pan was a recent acquisition (last summer), the finish was uniform. Alas, things change.
A little back story here. Long, long ago, I used to prepare meals on a budget. A strict, count my pennies for real kind of budget. My kitchen was a stored stove in the basement of a student dormitory, and I had an old dipper. Since there was no room for cooking oil in my strict budget, I cooked “dry”. And on my menu, from time to time, there were fishcakes. Burnt fishcakes. Friends have never forgotten the texture, the odour, the sheer marvel that I could eat them. French salad dressing helped.
Maybe it’s genetic (many things are), but at least one of my progeny has developed a taste for the taste. The requisite cooking skills seem to have “rubbed off”, to further spice the dish. Sadly.
After detective work, the reason for the new appearance of my pan is that the fishcakes “got away” this morning. Distraction. Whatever. The discoloration is permanent, which means that I have to put up or shut up. Another pan, next summer. Meanwhile, I’ll have to make sure that the bottle of olive oil is there. Always.
