FRIDAY AFTERNOON DISCUSSION: THEY’RE GONE, LET’S EAT

It’s a Friday afternoon in the offseason, so there’s not much to talk about in football. But this is a football blog! Surely I’ll find a way to stay on topic, and talk about what they have me here to talk about: football.

Okay, now that that’s out of the way, let’s have an important discussion, spurred by this tweet of mine from last year that’s flared up again this afternoon.

Let’s be clear on the stakes here: I am a good cook. (Get your jokes off about Skyline Chili on your own time, I’m not from Cincinnati and I don’t actually care.) I enjoy cooking. I own many hardbound cookbooks, nice pans, and I love fancy kitchen gadgets. I like spending 5 hours making Kenji Lopez-Alt’s wonderfully tasty and needlessly complex chili recipe, only to lose my office chili cookoff to someone who put a tube of ground beef and Ragu in a crock pot. (I’m not mad.)

I like to cook nice things.

So, what am I most prone to make when my wife goes out of town? I’ll tell you what I do.

I’ll take a package of ramen noodles - now, I know what you’re saying. “Ramen noodles are for broke college kids!” Well, first of all: screw you, I’m a broke middle-aged parent. Second of all: we aren’t talking Top Ramen or Maruchan here. My tastes have refined since my dorm days.

Your boy’s springing for the good shit here.

“Okay, so, you have ramen when your wife’s gone? That’s not that stu-” LET ME FINISH.

No, I cook the ramen, and then drain it. Broth? Sounds like a health food. Get out of here, health food. I get out a small non-stick skillet with an oven-safe handle. Now it’s time to go digging, and this is where you gotta play it as it lays. You got any chorizo in the fridge? Some salami? A half-used red onion? Maybe some jalapenos? Whatever. Throw all that in the pan. Get a nice little brown going. Kill the heat.

Toss those drained noodles in.

Beat two or three eggs, and pour those over the noodles.

Got some shredded cheese? Ain’t nobody lookin’. Your spouse is out having drinks on a per diem, and you’re alone in the kitchen with your shame. Live mas, my friend.

Alright, you got that all good now? Throw the whole thing under the broiler. Give it 3-5 minutes to set up. Baby? You got yourself a stew. Or, in this case, a ramen noodle frittata. It’s crunchy, springy, salty, eggy, cheesy... it’s delicious, and it’s an absolute freaking embarrassment. (One that I usually douse in hot sauce.)

And that, my friends, is how stupid I get when my wife is away.

Now, this may not be your speed. (Your loss, you philistine). But I’d bet dollars to donut-flavored Captain Crunch (which I also bought last week) that you’ve got something just as stupid you shove in your face when the people you care about most aren’t around to realize how horrible you are.

Please, share with us your worst.