Twas a horribly, terribly, really, awfully sad evening in the Messy Kitchen. You may blame it on my clumsiness or on my haste… you can blame it on my height or on this wretchedly laid out kitchen… wherever you shall choose to lay the blame, the tragedy was this: the ever faithful, all-knowing El Gallo was crushed under an avalanche of oil and vinegar bottles that came topping from my top shelf.
May he rest in peace.
I cannot distract from the sentiment of a post as tragic as this one with a recipe. No, I may just have to retire.
You see, El Gallo has been in the Messy Kitchen since the beginning. He survived a long, dangerous trip from Spain, lodged haphazardly in the overhead compartment of a 747, alongside the overstuffed carryon bags of the ‘fee to check’ era. He survived traveling through three airports under the arm of a handsome, yet very spacey gentleman, who has been known to leave his chicken biscuits on the roof of the car, and whom in my wedding vows I promised to help make sure never loses our children. He even survived the earthquake that half-destroyed some of our city’s most enduring landmarks.
Damn you Pam. Damn you rice vinegar.