That Went Well

So far, the so-called Kind Experiment has not been very nice to me. First I was all set to get started when my job went on a two-week hiatus (side note, screw that. Only fun for people who are salaried) and it turns out that vegan-type food is tres expensive. Just the not-sugar sweeteners alone probably would've cost $30, which is a lot when you consider the price of a simple bag of sugar. So I delayed, but then I decided I would just start out easy. I would pick two recipes that used minimal ingredients, some of which I already had, and serve with a side salad. Simple.

Total. Kitchen. Meltdown.

The sauces were going okay, but I made the mistake of subbing a different sweetener for one and it just tasted wrong, so I threw it out. Then I was baking my tofu and it stayed resolutely jiggly despite 45 minutes in the oven. Okay, fine. It will surely crisp up when I fry it. Except I never got to that part. First, I decided to fry my black bean croquettes. They won't fry. Instead, they foam up all over the place and fall apart in the oil, which begins smoking madly and frothing like I'd dumped soap in the pan. So I used the rest of my oil, and the same effing thing kept happening, completely blackening my pretty silver pan.

That's when the, um, rage blackout began. The kitchen was filling with smoke because of my ill-advised frying and practically asphyxiating me, the stupid croquettes were falling apart all over the place. I had no more oil. I smelled like fryer smoke. The tofu wasn't enough for dinner by itself and my sauce was already in the bin, and I sort of lost it. I yelled at the stove. I yelled at the frying pan. I yelled at the cookbook, and vegans in general, and at the boyfriend for suggesting that things would be fine. I then yelled at him for suggesting that I order the pizza and made him do it instead, and then yelled about having to go pick it up, and in the generally lunatic-heavy atmosphere he ordered a vegetarian pizza forgetting that I hate both olives and green peppers. So then I was mad about that, except I couldn't be mad at him because the fiasco was of my own making. Not a good night, all totaled.

So, I guess maybe I'll just have to try that again later. Maybe next time I'll go with something that doesn't involve frying, just cooking, and doesn't involve interesting sweeteners. I would also like to point out while we're here that I am generally a nonconfrontational, non-screaming, fairly normal person. There is just something about kitchen disasters. I do not weather them well. Me + kitchen disaster = totally unhinged. Or, put another way...vegans: 1, me: 0. Possibly -10 for psychotic behavior. Ahem. Kind indeed.