Dropsies Dinner and Caffeine

From frugal and fabulous to dizzying drech....that is the risk of the home cooked meal.  Sometimes food blogs just sound a little too easy and full of grace.  The photos are perfectly shot, as if a food stylist lives in house, and the recipes and anecdotes that accompany those perfect shots are always well mannered, well dressed, and say all of the appropriate food things. Precious. Well, last night's dinner wasn't like that in our house.  I set out to make use of some butternut squash leftovers and one of the 8 heads of cabbage currently in residence in my fridge drawer.  A simple cheddar/squash souffle and some vinegary coleslaw with boiled dressing sounded good.  But first let me confess....I drank coffee earlier in the day. 2 large, strong cups of the stuff.  After many weeks of being coffee free, I could easily say it was a BIG mistake.  I have to tell myself that I am allergic to the stuff, period.  Must stay away.

I approached every ingredient as if it were a wild animal needing a fast chase, a violent catch, and followed by a quick wrestle and throw down into waiting  bowl or pot.  Eggs were smashed accidentally, lumpy squash was beaten to smoothness, without success, using the help of 2 different electric tools - the immersion blender zapper and the under sized hand held mixer - to no avail and butter was scorched before the roux could even get out the door.  Many pots, pans, spatulas, whisks and spoons later, I found myself "gently" folding in the egg whites with the grace of an elephant on speed.  The batter took up two different souflfe dishes (but one of them was just a brownie pan), and I slid both into the oven.  Of course, my impatience made me check on it too often, but still they rose and looked beautiful.  At least the one I didn't drop on the open oven door looked beautiful.  The spill victim turned into a lovely mess of charred egg and squash smeared all over the window of my oven door, filling the house with a toasty burned egg aroma.

The slaw was a little better, but I did manage to get small shreds of cabbage in every nook and cranny of the kitchen and I also tatsed the boiled dressing a little too soon after the said boiling point and still can't feel my tongue.  When all was done, we sat, opened a bottle of red (the cork broke in half and I plunged it with great relish down into the bottle, and we had a funny, even tasty meal.  Many jokes were made about the crazy housewife who possessed me and the effing souffle she felt compelled to make.  All because of some squash leftovers.