I sat on the side of my bed seriously contemplating whether I should crawl back under the covers. Then, I remembered –
Oooh, my favorite coffee creamer is waiting for me!
You see, I went to the grocery store last week and my favorite flavor was no where to be found. With great disappointment, I grabbed a caramel coffee creamer, finished my shopping and went home.
It wasn’t until I was putting away the groceries at home that I discovered my egregious mistake. Instead of caramel, I had picked up Maple.
Maple! In my coffee?!? Ugh! That sounded almost as bad as Pumpkin Spice!
But today, sitting in my fridge was a glorious 32 oz. bottle of Peppermint Mocha coffee creamer. What a wonderful incentive to get out of bed! (I know. My life is sad. 😉 )
Oh, but the good vibrations didn’t stop there. The joy of drinking a warm cup of peppermint mocha flavored coffee after a week of suffering through the second worst coffee creamer in existence inspired me.
I’m going to cook breakfast!
Nope. I didn’t stop to enjoy a full cup of my delicious coffee. I didn’t wait for the morning brain fog to lift. I set out to cook a breakfast casserole. “This’ll be a cinch!” I thought. I’d made it tons of times before (using parts of the Fully Loaded Cheesy Breakfast Casserole recipe over at “The Slow Roasted Italian” and parts of the Baked Western Omelet recipe over at “The Seasoned Mom”) and it’s basically fool-proof.
… … …
… … Hang on…
… … … Give me just a minute…
I’m trying to stop laughing so I can finish this post!
Okay. I’m good now.
While gathering the ingredients for my breakfast casserole, I began to think of my victories in the kitchen this past week.
First, there was my cooking flexibility I discovered while making Sweet Corn Pie.
Then, there was the moment my husband declared that I could possibly have outdone him in the kitchen with my Chicken and Dirty Rice. (I’ll have to share that story with you on another occasion.)
And lastly, there was my brilliant idea to use hamburger buns for garlic toast to accompany our spaghetti one evening and then to use the leftover hamburger buns/garlic toast as buns for our sloppy joes the next evening. After which, I proudly proclaimed myself “Queen of the Kitchen”.
Then from the deepest depths of my soul (or maybe the bottom of my coffee cup – I’m not really sure) came an idea born of my ever-growing pride.
I think I’ll try something new.
I decided to use crescent rolls as a crust. I had seen a recipe somewhere but didn’t want to spend the time searching for it. Phhhht. I don’t need a recipe!
Apparently, I did.
Maybe it was the brain fog. Maybe it was not enough coffee. Maybe it was karma biting me in the crescent rolls but my breakfast did not turn out anything like I had hoped.
After 30 minutes of the required baking time, I opened the oven to find that the crust was on the verge of burning but the casserole was not completely cooked. And there were these scary looking pustules growing on the top that reminded me of those horrible videos all over the web of –
Wait. This is a food post. You don’t want that image in your head. It’s bad enough that I had it in my head!
Anyway, I had to cook the casserole about 15 minutes longer and by the time I took it out of the oven, well, let’s just say the crust was mighty, mighty dark and mighty, mighty crispy.
Yeah. I was bummed. Almost as bad as when I discovered my coffee creamer mistake!
Perhaps, if I hadn’t been wearing that prideful “Queen of the Kitchen” crown…
Perhaps, if I had taken the time to look up an appropriate recipe…
Perhaps, if I had remembered I’m still a novice in this whole culinary world, the casserole would have turned out a little better.
But that’s pride for ya. It puffs you up then leaves you hanging in the middle of a dart board while daring someone to hit the bullseye!
Well, the casserole wasn’t too horrible. In fact, after a few bites, my husband said, “You know, I like it crispy like this.”
I smiled sheepishly…
… then slowly straitened my crown! 😉
**Full disclosure. I finally realized that my husband had no idea there was actually a crust on the casserole. He thought I had overcooked it and was trying to make me feel better about my mistake! Nice move, hubby of mine. Nice move. **