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This afternoon, about 5, I realized I hadn’t planned squat for supper and since that’s very unlike me, I got a little tense. So I scrounged in the freezer for meat and found a pound of ground pork. Then I scrounged the pantry and fridge and found several other items, and made this, now happily baking in the oven:
1 lb ground pork
1 small spanish onion, chopped
2 large cloves garlic, minced
2 tablespoons chili seasoning
Brown all this up in a pot.
Then mix together:
1-1/2 cups milk
1/2 cup sour cream
1/4 cup oil
2 cups cornbread mix (I use Martha White, but any will do)
The batter needs to be good and wet, don’t be afraid to add a bit of milk if you have to.
1 can whole kernel corn, drained
1/2 cup salsa
1 small can chopped green chilis
Then stir in the browned meat mixture.
Pour everything into a hot cast iron skillet (mine’s a 9 inch one) and bake in a 400 degree oven until it’s cooked through and brown on top. Probably an 9×13 pan would work, too.
If you like, you can stir some grated cheddar cheese into the batter. I didn’t because I didn’t feel like digging around to find the grater.
This is the result of a guilt-fed pantry crawl. For the full effect, add the sound of a screeching puppy (being dominated by an older dog) and the wails of an offended almost-7 yr old (being dominated by someone twice his age), and the melodic background music to SuperMario RPG. Enhance the ambience with a pile of dog poo, a constantly running toilet, and an unopened (an wholly untouched by most members of the household) package of Always Feminine Pads For Women Sized 14+ on the dining table. I love causing emotional trauma to my teenage males. Add to the cast one 16 yr old, oblivious to his surrounded thanks to his Zen Micro MP3 player and the dulcet tones of Metallica.
I had decided I wasn’t going to have a drink tonight, no martini, no Cosmopolitan, no G&T.
However, I am reconsidering that.
I have a great life, on the whole, but sometimes there are these little pockets no one else can see. It’s like getting a fabulous loaf of gourmet bread and when you cut it open there’s a big ol’ hole right in the middle.
Like, why can’t I go just one day without something hurting, physically or mentally? Not a bad hurt, that hasn’t happened in a long time, but just enough to keep me from being chipper.
Or, why can’t I go for an entire afternoon and evening with everyone home and no one being nasty to anyone else? I want one of those evenings you see on TV, where the Parker Bros Corportion announces that Thursday Is Family Game Night! And everyone is sitting around with a fistfull of cards telling stories about people and sharing from a single, humongous bowl of popcorn.
I know why, and I’ll tell you. Because if that happned, that perfect day where physical and mental met with common sense and raspberries, the world would come to a screeching halt and we’d all fly off into space to die without atmosphere or tv.
So, the logical conclusion is this:
I am the center of the universe and it’s up to me and my arthritis to keep things running smoothly.