Thursday, May 10, 2012

Black-eyed Peas

Okay, so  hubby and I discussed dinner for yesterday. I needed extra time to take care of writing related issues I had gotten behind on, so I wanted to simplify things, throw something tasty together and forget it. Hubby mentioned black-eyed peas would be good to go along with the kale and sweet potatoes. Easy-peasy dinner, time to write. Yay!
The roast I thought was in the freezer, wasn't there. I'd forgotten to replace it when I cooked the last one a couple of weeks ago. No problem, I thought. Chicken will be just as good, except then I remembered we'd had Rotisserie chicken Monday, and Tuesday I'd made chicken salad from its leftovers. I kept digging in the freezer for anything that I could throw into the crock-pot. No such luck. I made my way back inside the kitchen, hoping against hope, the perfect protein would jump out at me.    :)   Didn't happen. Both freezers were full, but nothing simple to prepare.
Did I have black-eyed peas? You guessed it. Not a bean in sight. By now I was ready to order in the perfect dinner. I didn't, because hubby had a taste for black-eyed peas, and by gosh he was going to get them.
By now it was four in the afternoon. I know. Procrastination is my middle name. The crock pot meal wouldn't have time to cook. I jotted down a few other items, and off to the grocery I went. I made quick work of racing through the isles and finally wound up at the bean and pasta section. Were there black-eyed-peas on the shelf? Of course not. I couldn't believe the huge grocery store chain was out of such a simple staple.
A nice young man was kind enough to check in the back for a bag of black-eyed peas. After about five minutes, he came back only to inform me there were none in the stockroom either.
"Must have been a run on peas," he said.
Okay, I envisioned telling him I wanted to have a talk with their buyer. That would be a good run! Instead, I bit my bottom lip, then thanked him for his trouble. The case of the missing black-eyed peas wasn't his fault.
Canned peas aren't my favorite, but they certainly held intrigue today. Still, I by-passed the canned food isle, and contemplated telling hubby the bean crop had a bad year. Just kidding! :)
Now, with less time than ever, I'd have to go to another grocery a few miles away to shop for those blasted black-eyed peas. The pressing thought that I hated black-eyed peas filled my head.
Finally after waiting in line for what seemed forever, 'course it was probably only a few minutes, I paid and started to leave.
"Ma'am, do you want the rest of your groceries?" the cashier asked.
I was horrified. Never had I been so careless as to leave purchases. I laughed it off and headed to the other grocery. Well, by then, if the roast didn't get started, it wouldn't be done by seven. Luckily another car wasn't behind me, because I slammed on the brakes and swung the car into my driveway before going shopping again.
In the house, I flipped on an eye, and set an iron skillet over the flame. The flame was hotter than my  brain at the moment, but it was a  close call. Had to strip a layer of fat off the bottom of the roast, seasoned it, then slapped it into the skillet to sear. Washed and wrapped the sweet potatoes, then popped them into the toaster oven. Flipped the roast, then washed the Kale and set aside. Turned the fire under the roast to low, slammed a lid over it, and flew out the door.
Can you tell by now, I'm hotter than the flame under the roast?
Fast forward. Hubby thanked me for a wonderful meal, and those words made the trying afternoon worthwhile.
I did give hubby a good piece of advice. "Let me know a week ahead of time when you want black-eyed peas again."  :)
What's the most frustrating meal you've ever prepared? Come on. I know you've experienced at least one.
Carol DeVaney


  1. Your hubby is one lucky man. Lucky that you spoil him so rotten.