CaffieneKittySpace

I've got a really annoying moving-related road trip to make today. Since I have zero cash, I have (without intending to) managed to pack myself the same bag lunch I had in grade 2 (minus the semi-frozen Super Socco drink box): Peanut butter and Jam sandwich and a banana. In the process I have rediscovered some

technical tweaks to my peanut butter and jam sandwich construction methods, made in response to sandwich construction issues as they arose.

-If you use bread so rarely that you keep the loaf in the freezer to toast a slice at a time as needed, thaw the bread first.

-No, not toast. Thaw.

-Both sides of the bread.

-Let bread cool down and hope it doesn't dry into croutons.

-Spread the sticky things on the crustier side of each slice.

-There is definitely such a thing as 'too much peanut butter'.

-Spread TO the edges of the crust, not ON the edges of the crust.

-Use a little margarine on the jam side to keep the jam from soaking the bread to mush.

-Bread should not melt the margarine at this stage.

-Get real jam next time. (Whose bright idea was it to take something the consistency of half-set Jello, put mushed fruit in it and sell it as jam? They are evil.)

-The sticky sides go together, not sticky-side to dry-side (unless making a PB and J club sandwich, which doesn't pack well and uses too much bread for me. Also the cut banana in it would go weird too fast).

-Stick it in the fridge to firm up all the half-melted stuff spread on not-quite-cool bread before trying to cut it to fit in a sandwich bag.




Anyway. I'm off to do annoying adult things with my grade 2 dinner now. Blah. I miss Super Socco.

Do not attempt to deep fry chicken and potatoes in a shallow open dish in an oven.

Especially if you weren't intending to deep fry anything and that much oil only wound up in the pan because you have a weather-induced quasi-migraine headache and couldn't think clear enough to remember that most of the oil normally doesn't go in the dish, it stays in the seasoning bag. And that there's normally not that much oil.

The oven has been turned off for fifteen minutes now, the pan is still in it because opening the door would be asking for pain and very loud noises. The oil is still spitting and spattering. On the up side, the fire alarm has not gone off and nothing has burst into literal flames.

Yet.

Kitchen + Me = Doom. (or "The undocumented features of a turkey.")

( I don't know why I expected anything different. )