Page 43 of Caught A Vibe

As a very basic home cook, I am the perfect demographic to try it out. I picked a stir-fry because it feels both healthy and easy to assemble. I hope Penny likes it. After last night’s shift in our dynamic, I replayed the high points in our time together, and I realized we’ve never actually gone on a date. Tonight I’m going to fix that.

Opening the box, I lay the chicken, veggies, and rice on the counter along with the little packets of spices, seasonings, and sauces. The app on my phone recommends doing amise en placewhatever the hell that means. From the picture it looks like putting chopped thingies in a lot of little bowls. I rummage through Penny’s kitchen until I unearth relative approximations for the cutting board, knife, pot, and frying pan they show, plus a few cereal bowls because those tiny glass bowls do not exist in any of her cupboards.

I press play on the next video and chop up the veggies like they showed me. The way they disassemble the bell pepper blows my mind. I would have never thought to unroll it with my knife.

Feeling confident, I chop the other veggies and the garlic before side-eyeing the chicken.Ugh. Raw chicken.I hate the texture. It is soft and slimy and gross. Just thinking about it makes me gag. This is a big part of why I rarely cook from scratch. The things I love to eat often squick me out in their raw form. But I am determined. I can do this.

I haul in a deep breath and click the chicken tutorial video. The tip offered is to cut the chicken while it’s still partially frozen to make smaller slices easier to manage. I open the bag and pour the chicken out onto the cutting board. It lands with a clunk. Willing to give it a go, I take the knife I found and aim for thin, even slices. Apparently the chicken is too frozen because my knife is barely making a dent in the hard surface, chipping off tiny shards of crystalized meat. It looks nothing like the video.

Going off script, I grab one of the cereal bowls, dump the garlic on the counter and throw in the chicken. A quick defrost cycle in the microwave should help. Unfortunately, this idea leaves the edges rubbery and overcooked while the center of the chicken is still solid. The idea of eating this turns my stomach, but it is indeed easier to cut, and oddly, the different texture makes my aversion easier to handle.

Finally the damn meat is sliced into thin strips for the stir-fry, but my hands are covered in chicken goo. How the hell am I supposed to touch my phone to watch the next video? I scrub up with hot water and soap twice before tapping the autoplay feature in the app. There. Now I won’t have to keep touching it.

Rice rinsed and into the pot, oil in the pan followed by the chicken. Keep it moving, Hall.Check. Check. Check.

When the video tells me to take the chicken out and put the veggies in, I can see that the chicken is still pink, so I get out another bigger pan and start heating oil in that one for the veggies. By the time that is hot, the video is showing all the veggies being tossed around.

Crap!Is there an order? Does it matter? I can feel the recipe getting away from me. Did they add the seasonings yet? Trying to catch up, I dump all the veggies in at once along with the garlic, ginger paste, chili flakes, soy sauce, and sesame oil packets.

On the back burner, my rice begins to boil over. I snap off the heat as rice starch oozes over the side of the pan and onto the cooktop. An acrid smell singes my nose and catches my attention.Is something burning?

I check the chicken which has turned orange on the side facing the pan.Damn it.At least it’s cooked through. I scrape it into the veggie pan, and give it a toss. My eyes widen as I realize the acrid smell is coming from the veggies. Just then the video chimes in with, “Now for a finishing touch, add the sesame oil off the heat so it doesn’t burn.”

Crap.Too late for that now.

Hustling to salvage the meal, I put the stir-fry into a big bowl, spilling some on the counter as the pan is difficult to lift one-handed, and the bowl is smaller than the rim. Gluey rice plops into another bowl, and I slap off all the burners. I am done. Spent. Finished. How do people do this every day? Multiple times?

The chaos I’ve created on the counter is overwhelming. I need sustenance before I tackle cleanup. And maybe booze.

I knock on the bedroom door where Penny retreated for a video call. No response.

Quietly opening the door a crack, I spot her, fast asleep on the bed, laptop closed and clutched like a pillow. I go closer and smooth her blonde curls back from her face.

“Hey sleepyhead. It’s time for our date.”

“Uh-uh,” she murmurs and rolls over. “Don’t wanna eat. Can’t taste it anyway.”

“Penny, come eat. And then I promise you can go right back to sleep.”

She stirs and rolls toward me, adorably rumpled. Sitting up slowly, she holds a hand to her head. “What time is it?”

“Six-thirty. How was your meeting?”

I hold out my hands and help pull her to standing. She keeps going right into my chest, snuggling in for a sleepy hug. I wrap my arms around her and my heart beats thickly in my chest. Screw dinner. I’m just going to exist on hugs for the foreseeable future.

“I think it went okay. We’re trying to figure out damage control.”

It takes real effort but I turn our hug toward the door. Taking her right back to bed is super tempting, but I don’t want the food to get cold. “Tell me all about it on our date.”

“You keep saying that,” she grumbles as she follows me into the living room. “Did I miss something?”

“You and I both missed a first date, so I’m fixing that. I cooked.”

She pulls back from my arms with a smirk on her face. “You cooked. No shade, but does that mean we’re having grilled cheese again?”

“Why do people say ‘no shade’ right before they start throwing it? No, smartass, chicken stir-fry.”

“Wow! Look at you, getting all fancy.”

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