My First Culinary Abortion for 2008

If cooking is half the battle, eating whatever you just cooked up is the remainder.

And if the quality of food is equal to the amount of effort and skill put into it, I should be thankful that I'm still alive today.

So on to tonight's lovely little tale. It's a story about how a seemingly innocent idea can turn out to be not-quite-so-innocent.

It's called Kakak O's Spaghetti Bolognaise with Corned Mutton.

Now, if the name didn't already scare you off, perhaps the description would.

First of all, gently heat up a frying pan. Preferably a non-stick one. I had the joy of cooking on a steel-only frying pan, and spent the rest of the evening scraping pieces of mutton fat off. And you might want to skip on putting some oil in; this'll be obvious in a few moments.

Next, open a tin of corned mutton (hopefully with a can opener or bayonet). Scoop out half the contents and dump it on the frying pan. The fat content of the mutton should be sizzling happily the moment it hits the pan, thus eliminating the need for cooking oil. Add some chopped onion if you like.

Allow the corned mutton to cook for a while. Yes, I understand it's redundant to cook something already pre-cooked, bear with me. Let it simmer in its own fat until it turns somewhat brownish.

Now dump in some tomato sauce over the pungent concoction. The ones that come in jars. Yes, those ones. What, you'd think I'd actually make my own sauce? Eh? It's cheating? Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn.

Hopefully, you'd have the spaghetti at least half-cooked by now. Otherwise filling your home with the rather strong smell of something that's containing bits and pieces you'd rather not see from an animal mixed with tomato sauce would have all been for nothing. Can't have spaghetti bolognaise without the spaghetti now, can we? I dare say, old chap.

Oh, you might also want to add some spice to make the sauce taste more like proper spaghetti sauce as opposed to reconstituted meat covered by tomato sauce. Correction, make that a lot of spice. I probably used up half of my pepper and oregano supply to make it not smell like a dead sheep.

So, once all this is done, the sauce cooked to taste and the spaghetti reasonably chewable, you now have the (dubious) honor of tasting it yourself. Go ahead.

By the time you finish that first bite, you might well be thinking,

"What the hell did I just make?"

Note that this is an expression of incredulity at the tomfoolery you've unknowingly committed. You have, in fact, created a culinary abortion. Note how the taste of the corned mutton contrasts to practically everything else. You are essentially eating a plate-full of dodgy sheep bits smothered in red paste and unsuccessfully disguised by spices.

You might also feel a little heavy and disoriented after that. Or you may collapse and see a bright light at the end of a tunnel, given the right circumstances. Don't worry too much, that's just the cholesterol speaking. Eating that dish probably contained the equivalent of two Double Big Macs and a generous side order of french fries. Go ahead, sleep it off. With any luck, you won't wake up seven weeks later with a catheter stuck in your nether regions.

And with that warning, I bid you all a good night (or morning).

[End Transmission]