The other day Nicky and some of his friends went to get take-out ‘food’ from A & W. Apparently Luke had given Nicky $3.00 and asked him to bring him an order of onion rings. When they arrived back here they discovered that the person at A & W had forgotten to put them in the bag. Luke was heartbroken, but undaunted.
He came upstairs with a hand written recipe for onion rings, which he’d found on the net. I informed him that for someone who doesn’t cook at all, making a batter for deep frying might be hard, so I volunteered to do it. I had some nice Walla Walla sweets in the house, so he and I made the batter and sliced one onion. I fried the onion rings in oil, and they actually looked really good.
Denis had left his computer gaming for a few moments, probably due to needing a beer, so sauntered into the kitchen just as we were putting the rings onto paper towels on a plate. He took one, and went, “mmmm.” So, of course, being the idiot that I am, I asked if he wanted an order for himself. He did. So, I fried up the second onion.
While frying the second batch, Nicky came upstairs breathlessly as he had seen Luke’s plate of homemade onion rings. He said he wanted a batch, too. I said, “Oh for the love of God!” but of course went ahead and made the third batch. I had even had to make more batter by this point. I realized that Nicky had eaten the take-out, and was now adding the onion rings, just for fun.
At the end of all the frying, the oil was black. Time to throw it out, so I took a sturdy plastic bag and poured it in. Then I tied a knot in the bag and placed it into the garbage. Once that garbage was full, I threw it out into the trash can.
The next morning I awoke to Mojo being paralyzed on the bed. I figured it was her back, so forced anti-inflammatory down her throat. After a while, I went outside, and I saw that the garbage had been tipped and that there was a great trail of oil in the carport and onto the driveway. I skillfully put two and two together and figured out that Mojo was probably sick from all of the oil.
Later that day, one of the dogs vomited on the bed. I mopped it up, as usual, but the mattress refused to dry. I felt it with my hand, which was slick with oil! The little monster had hurled blackened oil onto my bed, thereby causing the mattress to have to be turned. Imagine how filthy it is under there now.
Oh well. My dear friend Alison is on her way here for a visti, so I have to concentrate on what’s important: dinner. I have a wild sockeye salmon which I want to stuff with lemon slices, garlic and herbs from my garden. I also have nice local eggplant for eggplant Parmesan, and the usual local potatoes, roasted. It will end with a cherry fool. And yes, there probably will be garbage. Tomorrow is therefore another big day for Mojo, the gourmand.