I don't use it because I already have a couple of recipes under my belt. I cook them from memory. Also I made them up. One is Black beans and 'stuff' served straight, the other is black beans and 'stuff' over quinoa. I call it Mexican Mash 1 and Mexican Mash 2, and I eat them every day on an alternating schedule.
But then Brooks got an Ipad from his parents as a birthday present. He downloaded this app which is an interactive Mark Bittman cookbook with a picture of Mark himself on it. It was cool. Actually, it was baller. I started playing with it.
I found a recipe for a winter squash curry. It was easy and turned out to be such a success that I made it the very next day for my cousins. I had Lisa over the next night, and I made it for her, too. I served it to three different friends in four days. They all thought I was brilliant. They didn't know that it had taken over my life.
All of this cooking had me running back and forth to the grocery store, always for the same ingredients: onions, peas, squash, coconut milk, green beans and chard. I'd lap the produce section, then float towards checkout, making direct eye contact with my fellow shoppers. Have a look in my cart, I dared them. Just look at my vegetables. I am better than you.
For two weeks straight I made the curry every night. Then one day at work, I realized mid-chew that I couldn't swallow another bite of it. I was done. And instead of listening to my body, I soldiered through and took down what was already in my mouth. Then I put the lid back on the Tupperware, and put it back into my lunch bag. Then I threw up.
I knew I'd have to throw the rest of the curry out. But each day when I come home from work, I throw everything onto the floor and I run away. I run away to my bed, or to the bathroom, or to the fridge or the computer to check the Internet in case someone extraordinary has emailed me with some life changing news. I do this every day. So, that day, I threw my lunch bag on the floor and left it there. Then, because I am so busy and important, I forgot about it.
Five days later, I tripped over that bag where it was still sitting in the living room. I'd better tidy up, I thought. I picked up the bag. It was heavy. So I reached inside of it.
The curry. It lives.
Horrified, I put the curry on the kitchen counter and decided to deal with it later.
But that night I went climbing. I was out late, and when I got home I was very tired. I decided to deal with the curry on Monday. Stop me if you see where this is going.
Brooks had dealt with it! He'd thrown it away! I was so happy!
But later that night, I went to the fridge for a string cheese.
And guess what I found in the fridge.
Brooks had put it in the fridge, thinking it was still good!
It was not over.
The right thing to do, the grown up thing to do, would be to remove it from the fridge and dispose of it properly. But then I realized, you know, I could just leave it in there. It's only a matter of time before my sister happens upon it. Then, hungry and unknowing, she'll reheat it and try to eat it.
This could work.
Leave it in the fridge and wait for this all to play out. Or throw it out myself now and move on with my life. I wish I could say it was over. But it's a debate that rages on inside my head to this day.