I repeated an infamous cooking mistake this weekend. On Saturday night I was on a roll – slicing potatoes and zucchini, while sauteeing an onion. I had a plan of making a faux-frittata – not really bothering to add much egg to the dish, and instead topping it with some cheese. I carefully layered the potatoes, followed by the zucchini, and then topped it with the caramelized onions. I chopped up some cheese and set it aside. I took out two eggs, cracked them (rather poorly, as I had to spend a few minutes fishing out some shells), and started to scramble them.
In a moment of glory, I reached into the fridge, took out the soy milk, and poured about a cup’s worth in with the eggs. I started to mix and just before I poured it over the vegetables, I remembered something crucial: the only reason we had been buying soy milk was to use it for our shakes, and I really like the taste of vanilla in my shakes. I had added vanilla soy milk to the eggs.
I dumped them down the drain, thankful that I hadn’t ruined the meal yet, and repeated the process again, omitting the milk. I poured the eggs over, added some of the cheese, and set it to bake for about 20 minutes. I checked a few times to see if the vegetable broth was evaporating – it was, just not very quickly. I poured some out, put the pan on the stove to crisp the potatoes at the bottom, and served us some slices of my fauxttata.
Moments later it was half gone. I’m thankful that I didn’t end up feeding Justin vanilla-flavored savory food again. I’m not sure he’s forgiven me for the sweet (fake) meat from early in our relationship.