As I may have mentioned more than once, the only time I actually go into the kitchen is to graze for snacks or when it’s my turn to for dishwasher duty. In other words, with constant apologies to the Better Half, as a cook I’m basically as useless as an inflatable dartboard.
Oh I can proudly throw together a fairly digestible Kraft Dinner, and I’ve been known to make toast (in a toaster) without burning it (sometimes). And I must say I’m wicked good at nailing nearly perfect popcorn from a classic stovetop Whirley popcorn maker. But that’s about it.
Until Christmas came along a few years ago. A friend named Bonnie brought a Dip To Die For to our annual Christmas party and I was so smitten with the “Mexican Antipasto” that I vowed to learn how to make it. I now make “Dad’s Famous Dip” every year at Christmas, and to this day not a single person has been hospitalized after horking my hors d’oeuver. (To my knowledge.)
For me to finally learn how to deal out a decidedly delectable dip-dish only took three or four critical kitchen disasters. Spilled bottle of taco sauce, frozen cream cheese mishaps, shattered dishes (the “good ones” of course) and bloodshed. (Although I’m still trying to figure out how one cuts himself on a spatula.)
Ultimately, however, I became so skilled that I can make my famous Antipasto in, say four to five hours whilst only missing one or two steps in the recipe. Bonnie, who brought the original, mentioned that the process should only take “about twenty minutes” but of course she’s clearly lying. Or perhaps insane.
The point, however, is that I’m so confident now with my one shining success as an admired chef every Christmas, I may have bit off more than I could chew this year. Or more accurately, spooned out more than I could swallow. Because when our friend Grace served up her Raspberry Mousse at a gathering recently the light, creamy, delicious dessert-in-a-glass smacked me right in the gob. In fact, I was so gob-smacked by its deliciousness I made another vow. “I HAVE to make this at Christmas!” I pledged to Grover the dog who was at the party and was begging me to share a spoonful of the marvelous mousse.
So I got the recipe and the other day I bravely decided to go for it. First, I had to figure out how to make Jello on account of that was the first ingredient. After a lot of research involving reading the box I more or less figured out how to add hot water then cold water. Jacques Pepin would be so proud of me. Next was a large lump of cream cheese which I didn’t bother to measure because a large lump looked close enough. Then, a big bag of frozen raspberries. So far so good.
Grace’s recipe then said to “whip together until smooth” and this is where the trouble began. After a half hour or so I found the electric mixer thingy, stepped up to the bowl, stuck the beater thingies in the goop and flipped the switch. Disaster.
The room literally exploded in a sticky pink raspberry bomb! Goop was flying everywhere and like hitting the wrong pedal in your car the faster it flew the harder I pressed the button. And when I finally pulled the mixer out of the shallow bowl I immediately realized that I maybe should have shut it off first.
Gooey pink splats and smears and blobs were everywhere. The walls, the cabinets, the fridge, the stove, the chef. My pants, shirt, arms, face, etc looked like a bloodbath from a Quentin Tarantino film. And with excruciatingly perfect timing, the BH arrived home and walked into the kitchen.
Happy New Year!
Harley Hay is a Red Deer author and filmmaker. Reach out to Harley with any thoughts or ideas at harleyhay99@gmail.com.
