In case there was any doubt as to just how adept at unintentionally insulting other people and embarrassing myself I really am, allow me to show you an example.
Last week I wrote the post that is directly underneath this post -- the one about the butternut squash soup. And I jokingly insulted the author of the recipe/book, who then read my post and left a comment. She was quite good natured about it and said she was glad we'd enjoyed the soup and then wished me a happy Thanksgiving.
This reminds me of the time I was talking shit about my former receptionist while I was in the bathroom at work, while all the time, the receptionist was also in the bathroom. I am that person. That very, very unlucky, tactless person.
As Antoine Dodson would say: I am so dumb. I am really dumb. For real.
The Internet is a vast, vast place, filled with God knows how many silly blogs that are kind of like this one. I read an article that estimated there are 50 million. But just like any industry, bloggers find that the world is smaller than it seems, especially when you start talking about bloggers who blog about specific things, like food. I am pretty sure the food bloggers all know each other and hang out and braid each other's hair and stuff.
Anyway, the moral of that story is I am a dumbass. Which was sort of already well-known. Sorry, O'Dea. We really did like the soup.
So. Speaking of food, how was Thanksgiving?
I ruined almost everything I made, which is to say I ruined the burgundy mushrooms, the cranberry sauce and the pecan pie, and came close to ruining the mashed potatoes.
I want a do-over.
So what happened is, I've been drooling over these Pioneer Woman recipes for about two months, just waiting for the opportunity to make them. So I did.
The one dish that came out good and that everyone really liked was the hot artichoke dip appetizer. It's in her cookbook, but if you want a link to her hot olive and artichoke dip appetizer recipe that looks even more fantastic than regular artichoke dip, here ya go.
I almost ruined the potatoes -- they were a bit lumpy and not as silky smooth and creamy as I'd imagined they would be. Entirely my fault.
The burgundy mushrooms -- this is the one that really chaps my hide. I love mushrooms, and from the moment PW wrote about them, I've been wanting to eat them. So I got up at 5 a.m. to make them, since they take nine hours to cook. Now, you know how sometimes you'll be looking at a recipe and you'll think to yourself, Self? That doesn't sound quite right. Maybe this recipe is a no-go. Well, you should always listen to that voice. That voice was speaking to me at 5 a.m. as I was dropping four chicken bouillon cubes and four beef bouillon cubes into the pot with the mushrooms.
Oh, here go hell come, as Calvin Tran would say.
Do you even know how much sodium is in ONE HALF of a bouillon cube? More than 1,000 milligrams.
Is PW trying to give my entire family a stroke? Does PW live on a different planet with different bouillon cubes that have less sodium? I am at a loss. This is why recipes that are not written for dummies are a danger to us all. Because although the mushrooms were delicious, they were so rich that you could really only eat one. One solitary mushroom. How many mushrooms did I make? Oh, about four thousand.
That recipe needs some refining.
I'll leave the cranberry sauce alone because I think that recipe is just the result of different people's tastes.
But the pecan pie? Good grief. In all fairness, PW warned that it might take longer to cook than the recipe recommended. So I cooked it 20 minutes longer. And it still melted all over the damn place. Tasted damn good but the stupid thing never firmed up. I was sorely disappointed.
The moral of that story is: Do not try brand new recipes that you have never tried on the one day of the year when you are inviting you entire family over for dinner.
Post script: I am such a numbnuts that I just realized O'Dea even retweeted my link to the post below. I really like this woman. Too bad she probably thinks I'm a Class A A-hole!