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.