You would think I would have learned by now that my attempts at cooking often produce strange, and sometimes dangerous, results. The latest entry in the book of Fenton’s Fantastic Food Failures started one isolated afternoon when I spotted a slab of tuna in the fridge. Yum. I decided it was time to expand my famously limited food repertoire and let’s face it — there was no one around to stop me. Hey, it’s a fish in a pan, what could go wrong? Had I been more attentive to the universe I would have heard the distant chortling of Larry, The Patron Saint of Bumbling Fools.
Anyway, put a pan on the cook-top, add a small amount of oil and let it heat. Remove the fish from the fridge, unwrap it from its clear protective wrapping and slowly lower it into the oil. I wear these giant mittens while dealing with hot oil, having been subjected to the painful Droplets From Hell on more than one occasion. I have clearly advanced far beyond that primitive, unevolved form of one-celled kitchen paramecium. I am up to 8 or 9 cells, minimum.
With the ringing sound of spatula and tongs, let the cooking begin! Ok, so far so good. I am positively *beaming* with culinary pride when I notice a new and unexpected phenomenon. The fish seems to be forming this clear bubble on the surface and not really cooking all that well. Maybe turn up the heat a bit, flip it over and… no, the bubble grows ever larger like some weird protective membrane. Almost as if it … uh-oh. This fish had a SECOND layer of clear plastic wrap which was now melting, making the whole concoction inedible, a feast worthy of the trashcan. I turn off the heat and glare disapprovingly at the now ruined carcass and its plastic friend.
There’s a reason my food repertoire is “famously limited”, and it seems to be related to plastic. Larry, on the other hand, is having a great time.
whoisfenton 