Saturday, August 04, 2012

Wherein We Join the 20th Century

Yeah, I know... it's the 21st century.  Bear with me.  I'm a BIG fan of those bag-meals and they're a staple for what passes as cuisine at El Casa Inmóvil de Pennington.  One feature every one of those meals has is this instruction: "Empty contents into a 12 inch non-stick skillet."  Well, we didn't HAVE a 12-inch... or any other size... non-stick skillet in our kitchen inventory, so we made do with a standard ten-inch aluminum skillet of the stick variety, oiled generously with a couple o' tablespoons o' olive oil for non-stick properties.  That was life as we knew it until two weeks ago, when we splurged and dropped 20 Yankee Dollars on a high-zoot Mirro 12-inch non-stick skillet.  Like this:


Buying that skillet might just be the smartest purchase I've made in the last couple o' few years.  I love the thing... it cooks well, and more importantly, clean-up is a BREEZE.  The skillet has yet to see the interior of my dishwasher as I can clean it up in about three minutes and set it on the counter to dry.  I couldn't say the same for the old stick-skillet, as I usually had to let that sucker soak overnight before attempting to scrub it.  I loves me some technology, even if I'm ten years late to the party.  Or longer.

Oh.  What was in the skillet?  This:


Shrimp scampi in garlic sauce with linguine.  Dinner was completed by the addition of a large salad and a vintage Dr. Pepper.  Dinner's done, as is the cleanup, so I think it's time to retire to the verandah and take the evening air.

8 comments:

  1. "I loves me some technology..."

    LOL. Reminds me of a FYI "news interest" story a local TV station ran in Philadelphia circa 1999 about some woman in rural Penn who was crazy enough to try to replicate the conditions her great grandparents actually grew up under (for the great experience of it all, dontcha know) by drawing all water from the local stream, cooking in a big pot over an open fire in the fireplace, using nothing but candle-light,etc. Worse, the idiot was subjecting her children to those conditions as well. They interviewed her still-living great-grandmother who allowed as she thought her g.grand-daughter was totally crazy (from my memory): "I actually grew up in those conditions, believe me, it's no picnic. I've got every electric labor-saving device imaginable in my kitchen--right down to the electric can-opener!" LOL! I see you, like me, can leave the wearing of hair-shirts to someone else, Buck!

    (I remember a conversation I had with a fellow Maj. FAC in Vietnam on the "hairshirt" topic and denying oneself the little pleasures in life that the "Land of the Big BX" brought in-country--stereo, tanning lotion, booze, etc.--just because we were in a war zone: "They didn't have airstrikes or air-conditioning during the Civil War, either, and successfully conducted operations without them, but does that mean that we should do without them today just because they did? And I wonder how quick they would have been to utilize them if the airplane or AC had been invented then--think they'd have said "no thanks?" he opined. LOL.)

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    1. Yeah... I'm not one for hair shirts. That's why I joined the AF, yanno? That said, I don't have an electric can opener.

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  2. (a) Where'd you find one a them for twenty bucks?

    (b) Don't even SAY fork around that thing.

    Guess how I learned that?

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    1. (a) The Base Exchange. It was actually $18.95.
      (b) That's kinda-sorta how I ruined one of the first-generation teflon pans. Rumor has it they're better now, but you'll note the plastic spoon barely visible in the stove pic.
      (c) Your Mama told ya? :-)

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  3. Live & learn. Never get too old to try new things. Welcome to the 21st century. And all those sayings.

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  4. Hmm...who knew being a luddite could extend to kitchen gadgetry. The most expensive pan I ever bought is the one I use the most - I splurged on a Calphalon 12 inch frying pan and it's in the sink more than it's in the cabinet.

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    Replies
    1. Calphalon is great stuff. Pricey, but great.

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