Sweet Potato Delight?

There’s nothing quite like having your best friend, who lives out of town, come to your home for the weekend. I had just recently had surgery and she was coming to check on me to make sure that I was behaving myself and doing the things that I was supposed to be doing. She was also coming to just spend some good, quality time with me. The weather was going to be nice, the spring trees and plants were starting to bud, and we were going to have a wonderful time just being together. And eating….we love to eat together!

In preparing for her arrival I wanted to feed her one of her favorite side dishes. Looking at things from the healthier side as of late, I decided to buy frozen sweet potato fries. I said the “healthier” side, not the “healthy” side, so don’t judge me on the frozenness of the fries. Please, just remember that I had just had surgery, and standing up to cut fresh sweet potatoes was not on the top of my list of things to do—even if she was sacrificing family time to come and visit me. Maybe this would be a good time to share that I may or may not have bought the store-brand frozen bag as opposed to a better-tasting name brand. Regardless, of what I actually bought, I knew that I would add some olive oil and basil when I cooked it. They would taste perfectly divine!

Her arrival came before the meal was done. As she walked through the door and set her things down she exclaimed, “I’m starving!” I then told her that I had made her favorite sweet potato fries to which she giggled with excitement. I realized that the much-awaited fries needed to be checked and so I opened the oven only to see smoke come barreling out. “NOOOOOO!” I exclaimed as my friend came rushing in. I shut the door and quickly turned off the oven and proceeded to tell my friend that though they weren’t totally ruined that they were moderately on the crispy side of things but edible. A bit disappointed that the frozen delights wouldn’t be totally perfect, I sat at the table with my friend and we began to catch up on all of the things. 

The culmination of the dinner that I had planned for was within grasp as I got the chicken dish ready. Lastly, would be the sweet potato fries taken out of the oven to ensure premium hotness. I grabbed the hot pad and at the same time opened the oven and more smoke rolled out than before. How was this even possible? It took me a few seconds to search through the smoke to find the pan of fries and sooner to smell the state they were in. Burned! Every one of them was absolutely 100% charred, scorched, smoldering and let’s not forget piping hot, which I proceeded to burn myself. 

I’m not the swearing kind and so I didn’t swear, but I did let out a loud, somberly grown from the deeper, inner parts of my body. My friend just stood there in shock and stared. She was NOT going to be getting her sweet potato fries. I ran with the pan out to the deck as I could hear the sizzling and continued burning. I set the pan on the edge of the deck table and went inside to reclaim any sense of Martha Stewartness left inside of me.  As I walked through the smoky haze of the kitchen my friend did a half smile and said, “It’s the thought that counts.” I just threw my head in my hands and sighed. There would be one thing for dinner and that would be chicken. I don’t think I was reclaiming anything that Martha Stewart would in the least bit be proud of when it came to my culinary skills. Some may be wondering how they could have burned more if I had turned the oven off. Well, if only I had truly turned the oven off and not the burner on top of the stove instead. I believe that would have made all of the difference in the world. But the past is indeed the past and one can’t go back. Dinner may have been a wash but there was always time for me to make it up the following day.  

It was a new day and I decided for lunch that I would show off my frozen pizza skills. I cooked the pizza in the toaster oven for the perfect amount of time, only to find my friend had gone out for a run and wasn’t quite ready to eat. This was not my first time to have to keep pizza hot without having the issue of yesterday, so I proceeded to tap the pizza button on the toaster oven and let it do its thing until it truly was time to partake of the frozen pepperoni delectability. What I didn’t account for was a phone call from my son about our new grandchild. This call took me into a world of joy and excitement, totally forgetting about anything that may be “warming” until my world was halted by the voice of my husband. He’s a very steady man without much excitement to his voice who said, “Why are you burning pizza in the toaster oven?” I quickly hung up the phone and ran to the kitchen only to scream the same words as yesterday. “NOOOOOO!” I had done it again. I had incinerated lunch. My husband proceeded to tell me that if I wanted it just heated that the pizza button wasn’t the thing to do because that actually cooks it more. He proceeded to tell me that what I needed to do was press the “warm” button instead. I’ll be honest, I just stared at him as he went on about how I should have done it when all I could see was how I actually had done it. 

My friend came home from her run only to find the pizza burnt and no lunch available. I shrugged my shoulders and told her that I never do this twice in a row and that I would take her to town and buy her some lunch before she left. Do you know what that kind, dear soul said to me? “Hey, it’s okay. It’s the thought that counts.” I guess it would have to be. Nothing says welcome to my home quite like two burned meals and a nasty fast food lunch. At least I am rich in thoughts because we all know they DO count.