Last week was not my week in the kitchen, guys.
I had earnest, ambitious designs on a beet curry that would be pink and pretty and spicy and would finally put the word “end” on my quarrel with the red/purple root.
But as the week went on and as failures occurred — unnaturally purple, watery, and nothing like what I had in mind — my enjoyment of the project plummeted.
But because I’m one of those persons that no-matter-what follows through and finishes what he started, I did, and lo, it was acceptable, you know?
It’s just that I’m not a beet person and I can tolerate it only
when juiced and I forgot?
None of this matter because the pot fell, spilling the curry. As I crouched on the kitchen floor scooping the curry into the garbage, I started questioning my life choices.
Why forcing myself to like something just because a bunch of other people like it?
I should know better…