Ammonia fish and 8-day tates.
Dinner was going to be quick, easy, and good.
Baked cod, brushed with melted butter and seasoned generously with salt and pepper (of course), roasted broccoli with shaved parmesean, and delicious leftover mashed potatoes.
Everything cooked up perfectly. The broccoli roasted deliciously. The fish was perfectly done; not overcooked, not undercooked. And the mashed potatoes, well, they heated up nicely in the microwave. (As opposed to heating up meanly? Unkindly?)
Dinner was done with little fuss and on the table in 30 minutes. It was certainly quick and easy, but would it be good?
Yes, it seemed so! Until I took, oh, my second or third bite of the fish and noticed an unsettling pinkish gleam on the piece of fillet on my plate. No, not that cool pink center that indicates something raw or undercooked. It was an opalescent sheen. A rather pretty pinkish, gold color. Pretty thought it may have been, that's not normal in cooked fish.
Yet, I wasn't overly concerned.
Until (there's that word again) I noticed that when I took a bite and breathed in, there seemed to be the strong scent of ammonia.
Ummmm.... no.
I've heard that if crab legs smell of ammonia, to give them the ol' heave-ho, because they are decomposing. I tell this to Patrick, who cautiously takes a bite of the fish on his plate, breathes in, and says, "Yeah, I think this is going in the garbage."
We chuck the cod (and the $7 or $8 I spent on it *tears*) and to be safe, mop the fish juice off our plates.
"There's a partial can of deens in the fridge, if you want," I helpfully suggest.
"Deens? What the heck are deens?" you are likely asking. OBVIOUSLY they're sardines.
What's that you say? That wasn't obvious? Perhaps that because we decided earlier in the week that sardines are known as "deens" on the streets. (Because these are the kinds of things we discuss. "What would the street name be for sardines? Deens, duh.") You just aren't as hip to the latest street lingo for food as we are.
Patrick declined my generous offer of one small deen per person, and our feast was now simply leftover mashed potatoes and roasted broccoli.
"Well, this has been a bust," I lament; but then, trying to put a positive spin on things I followed that with, "I guess I shouldn't say that. The broccoli and potatoes are good, at least."
Patrick sat thoughtfully chewing for a moment and said, "Ammonia fish and 8-Day Tates. And Deens." We long ago began calling potatoes "tates".
But he said "8-Day Tates" instead of just "tates." I did some quick mental math. Yep, those mashed potatoes were from 8 days prior. Considering the main portion of our meal was resting in the bottom of our garbage can, I decided not to worry about that. They, at least, passed the sniff test.
"You could do a blog about that," he said.
And so guess what?
I did.
Here's to hoping your fish smells less like a litter box than ours did! Happy eating.
Baked cod, brushed with melted butter and seasoned generously with salt and pepper (of course), roasted broccoli with shaved parmesean, and delicious leftover mashed potatoes.
Everything cooked up perfectly. The broccoli roasted deliciously. The fish was perfectly done; not overcooked, not undercooked. And the mashed potatoes, well, they heated up nicely in the microwave. (As opposed to heating up meanly? Unkindly?)
Dinner was done with little fuss and on the table in 30 minutes. It was certainly quick and easy, but would it be good?
Yes, it seemed so! Until I took, oh, my second or third bite of the fish and noticed an unsettling pinkish gleam on the piece of fillet on my plate. No, not that cool pink center that indicates something raw or undercooked. It was an opalescent sheen. A rather pretty pinkish, gold color. Pretty thought it may have been, that's not normal in cooked fish.
Yet, I wasn't overly concerned.
Until (there's that word again) I noticed that when I took a bite and breathed in, there seemed to be the strong scent of ammonia.
Ummmm.... no.
I've heard that if crab legs smell of ammonia, to give them the ol' heave-ho, because they are decomposing. I tell this to Patrick, who cautiously takes a bite of the fish on his plate, breathes in, and says, "Yeah, I think this is going in the garbage."
We chuck the cod (and the $7 or $8 I spent on it *tears*) and to be safe, mop the fish juice off our plates.
"There's a partial can of deens in the fridge, if you want," I helpfully suggest.
"Deens? What the heck are deens?" you are likely asking. OBVIOUSLY they're sardines.
What's that you say? That wasn't obvious? Perhaps that because we decided earlier in the week that sardines are known as "deens" on the streets. (Because these are the kinds of things we discuss. "What would the street name be for sardines? Deens, duh.") You just aren't as hip to the latest street lingo for food as we are.
Patrick declined my generous offer of one small deen per person, and our feast was now simply leftover mashed potatoes and roasted broccoli.
"Well, this has been a bust," I lament; but then, trying to put a positive spin on things I followed that with, "I guess I shouldn't say that. The broccoli and potatoes are good, at least."
Patrick sat thoughtfully chewing for a moment and said, "Ammonia fish and 8-Day Tates. And Deens." We long ago began calling potatoes "tates".
(Let me take a moment to congratulate you. You are learning SO MUCH about street names! Sizzurp has been in the news because of Lil' Wayne, and now you know about tates and deens. I bet you are thrilled! Back to the story.)
"You could do a blog about that," he said.
And so guess what?
I did.
Here's to hoping your fish smells less like a litter box than ours did! Happy eating.
Comments
Post a Comment
Say something clever or complimentary. Bonus points for both at the same time!