Friday Night

So I went to a dinner party last night. At first, I didn't really want to do much in the way of helping to prep. Earlier in the day I got head butted playing B-ball. I got a fat bloody lip, it actually made me look pretty tough. When we went to the grocery store, I checked out before everyone else, so I sat near the entrance, patiently. The people walking by me had all kinds of reactions to my face. It looked like I just left a fight. Some people shook their heads and others held a grin that put me at ease. Even the checker treated me with kindness. I was not angry at the person who smacked me, I let it all out by venting, no no screaming explitives. I positioned myself on a stool, at the kitchen counter, for it seemed an appropriate stance-much like a boxer between rounds. Once the cobb webbs cleared from my head, I set out to help cooking the meat. We were having beef, shrimp and fish tacos. My skills on the sautee' pan aren't to shabby, so I took over the task. I had forgotten how much fun it is to flip and toss the sizzling goods. Explaining to everyone there that the biggest mistake that people make is to over cook the meat. I realized that it wasn't a matter of cooking the meat until done, but the important thing was to cut the heat right before its done. This worked especially well with the shrimp. Those little curly creatures popped in the mouth and weren't rubbery at all. I don't always think of the temperature of the food when I pull it off the heat. That sustaining internal heat continues to cook delicate foods for a short time after. Things like eggs and seafood, need extra attention and the opportunity to blossom in their own goodness.