Perogies...maybe.

While DW is out on the town, I plan dinner for DD and myself.  Scope out the freezer and find a open bag of perogies!  Been a long time since we had those. (Warning bells should be going off about now.)

First we boil - no.  Perogie soup.  Freezer burned perogies split and I wind up with potato flavoured water.

Go back to freezer and look for something else.  Hey!  More perogies.  (Am I learning a lesson yet?)

Try to fry them, figuring they'll hold up better.  Heat up the oil and (basic physics alert!) toss on the first (slightly freezer burned) perogie.  Little bit of an oil splatter, so I take a step back to toss in the second one (arguably I have learned a lesson, albeit a very slight one).  The oil splatter this time is, to turn an overused phrase, epic.

PANIC!  Turn off the range.  Let the chaos settle and the pan cool down.  Now a little agitated and frustrated (more so than usual), I put the perogies in the (cooled) oil, then gradually put on the heat.  They brown nicely, I pull them out, carefully split one open and - cold on the inside.  Not frozen, but not by much.

Determination sets in.  Or resignation.  I toss them in the microwave for a little bit.  They come out warm, maybe a little chewy, but edible.

DD eats three then stops.  I get through five (compared to my usual ten or twelve).

After having spent an hour trying to cook perogies, I give up on anything that requires even the remotest amount of brain power that I can make for DD fast.

Hello peanut butter bread.



I'm a great chef.

I also have great motivation to clean the stovetop.