Ice Cream Injury and Great Curry Disaster

I have a couple of silly food stories to share so I thought I would lump them together here...

The Ice Cream Injury
The ice cream injury story is quick and funny...I was deperately trying to pry a rivulet of peanut butter out of my Friendly's ice cream on Sunday. I dug and dug with the ice cream scoop, but to no avail. I finally got my fingers in there to try and grab it and snap it. That tenacious peanut butter ribbon pulled my nail back and separated it from the nail bed. OUCH! Boy, did it hurt! Now, it is ridiculously hard for me to type with my pointer finger. Adds a whole new meaning to the concept of foods which are dangerous to your health.

The Great Curry Disaster
Once a month or so, my company has a potluck lunch. Everybody prepares some food to bring in and we gather in the kitchen to share it. It's a nice idea and brings a hominess to a sometimes overly corporate environment. In December, the theme for the meal was Indian. A bunch of folks responded...I'll bring nan...I'll bring rice...I'll bring a salad...etc...I decided to go for it and make a chicken coconut curry.

That Monday, I went shopping. Only the best for my curry! I bought organic chicken, gorgeous golden chicken stock, potatoes, coconut milk, and a myriad of eastern spices...Marco Polo would have been proud. I stood at the sink chopping for hours. I made a HUGE pot of Indian basmati to go with my curry. I cut each and every component of the curry into uniform, bite sized pieces. It was the kind of attention to detail and recipe that is seldom seen at my hand...I made enough so that my father, who adores curry, and I could have it for dinner and then I could bring the leftover vat of it in the next morning in the crock pot and keep it temptingly warm all day long. The smell of exotic curry and sweet coconut would fill the kitchen and, like cartoon characters on a visible stream of odor, my colleagues would float in, led by their noses. It was a lovely fantasy.

SCREEEEEEEEEEEECH...that's the sound of my dream derailing as over cooked the basmati. Oh well, I figured, I don't need perfect rice, once this curry is dumped all over it, no one will notice! The curry opened to rave reviews from my father. It was awesome. All the attention and care, coupled with the extravagant ingredients made it a truly special dish.

After dinner, as my father was doing the dishes, asked if I would like him to decant the curry into the crock of the crock pot. Sure, I said, why not? And so, he did, right into the sink. The crock slipped and the curry dumped, 97% of it landing in the sink. There was a moment that he grasped the hot, spilled stuff in his fingers before giving up. It was too much. It was gone. He looked like he might cry, so I reassured him that at least we got to eat it and there was another guy bringing in lamb vindalu anyway, so not to worry.

I showed up early the next morning, frown on my face, to confess that I had dumped my curry. The host of the potluck's face went white. What? What is it? He said...as I was carrying my vindalu to the car, the dog jumped up on me and knocked it out of my hands and it landed on the driveway. What horrid luck! We had to laugh. It was seemingly incomprehensible. Needless to say, our kitchen (and probably his dog and driveway) smelled like curry for a long, long time.