Wednesday, March 9, 2011

The Failure of Sauce

You'd think I would learn.

About two weeks ago, I realized it had been quite some time since I made a delicious curry dish. Usually, I use my auntie's homemade curry mix, but I always have trouble getting a good, creamy sauce going unless I happen to have coconut milk. So, rather than just buy coconut milk, I decided to buy this:


Mmm, green curry sauce. Of course, I wasn't planning to add the recommended meat, so I thought it would all work out fine. At home, I pulled out various awesome ingredients (including tofu) and decided I should probably read the label.

Here's what the label told me:


Anchovies?? Are they serious? Of all the possible ingredients, why anchovies? Did they need so badly for this stuff to smell and taste uber-fishy? And this was not a cheap jar of crap, either.

This is ridiculous, I thought to myself, and tossed the jar away with a reckless abandon.

Fast forward to last night, when I decided to try making tofu and mushroom stroganoff, which we both had been craving for ages and ages. Alas, we had no sour cream, a somewhat vital ingredient.

No matter, I thought to myself, because I had recently purchased a lovely jar of mushroom gravy which would still taste wonderful, even if the dish tasted less stroganoff-y and more high school cafeteria gravy-y.

I chopped and squeezed the tofu, washed and chopped the veggies, and sauteed all with olive oil and Worchesestestershershire sauce. Yum, yum. Then I cracked open the jar and dumped its contents onto the two pounds of food in the pan.

As an afterthought, I glanced at the label:

BEEF FAT! I was not pleased. This was mushroom gravy I held in my hands, not beef gravy! All the jars lined up neatly on that shelf said some variation of meat gravy. This one said no such thing. I glared at the pile of delicioiusness I had just destroyed with stupid beef fat gravy.

I was not pleased. I pulled at my hair. I shouted. Spousal Unit insisted he had done nothing wrong. No, I agreed. It was me this time.

So Spousal Unit ate the mess I made, as he is less strict on the meat issue than I. Unfortunately, for all its beef-fatty wonder, it wasn't the best gravy, he said. For dinner, I enjoyed the delicacy of two tofu hot dogs and some french fries.

Moral of the story: Read the freakin' label before you buy the freakin' jar - definitely before you use it.

Right. Let's see how long I remember that.

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