The Most Important Meal

I've been on vacation for a while now. Finals have been over and Christmas has come and gone. The hectic season is over. The holiday madness is now but a memory. My mother and my brother are back at school and my father is at work. I am at home and there are very few things to do.

I suppose that's a good thing. People are always complaining that they don't have enough down time -- that there's no time built into the world to relax. Well, I'm getting my time to relax now. Quiet. Peaceful. Dull.

Take this morning for example. I found myself alone at the dining room table reading the newspaper, the house quiet and sleepy. The coffee in my cup was getting cold and I had hit a rough spot in the crossword puzzle. Was this what the rest of my day had in store for me? Lukewarm caffeine and impossible word games? I couldn't let that happen. So I took my future into my own hands and decided that I possessed the necessary skill and talent to cook breakfast for myself.

It was the perfect idea. I was just beginning to feel slightly peckish and it wasn't as if the rainy weather was going to allow me to do anything useful outside, so why not prove that I can take on adult responsibilities and create a delicious dish all for myself? I had done it yesterday. I made this wonderful eggy thing with peppers and onions and cheese... How could hard could four little sausages be when I had already braved salmonella and Poblano chilies?

So I took out the frying pan, sprayed it with some imitation PAM, and turned on the burner, throwing on four little breakfast sausages as soon as I saw it was warming up. So far, so good. There was the satisfying little hiss of meat frying, the small amount of steam that naturally emits from something so raw -- it all seemed good. After a few, minutes, I flipped them. Nice and brown. Perfect. That's how they're supposed to look.

So I waited some more. That's what my mother did whenever she fried sausage. I've seen her do it a thousand times before and each time we end up with perfectly cooked little bundles of meaty goodness. So I stood back and watched them fry.

The only thing that struck me as slightly odd was the large amount of steam rising up from the pan. There's liquid in sausage, but can there really be that much? That's when I realized that it wasn't steam -- it was smoke. Even though my sausages were looking perfectly healthy and golden brown, they were burning. Or something was burning. I don't know. Either way, they were smoking like a chimney so I quickly turned on the little fan in our microwave that sits above our stove. Problem solved.

Except not really. I just let them cook for a few minutes, naively believing that one little touch of a button could clears the clouds of smoke that had already been set loose by the breakfast meat. Ha! That's when on shrill beep from the fire alarm brought me back to cold, cruel reality. In a moment of panic, I switched off the burner, ran upstairs, grabbed a pillow from my parents' bed and started frantically fanning the fire alarm at the top of the stairs in a desperate attempt to keep the smoke from further provoking the detector. Yeah, I know I probably looked ridiculous, but honestly, that's the only way we can ever get the thing to shut up.

When I was satisfied that the smoke was clear (or maybe it was when my arms got tired), I stopped fanning and went to open the windows and turn on the fans. I couldn't let the smoke sit in the house, now could I? As I opened my last window, I thought about the sausages. I knew they weren't done yet. Sure, the outside was brown, but I'd probably get worms or something if I tried to eat them at that point. They had to cook more. I couldn't just throw them away -- that would be a waste. So cautiously, I turned the burner back on.

This time, I kept the fan/vent above the stove on high the entire time, the stove on a lower heat setting and my watchful eyes never leaving the pan (not as if they did the first time around, but I think it's an important thing to note twice). Eventually I was satisfied that they were thoroughly cooked. Success! And breakfast!

And that's how far I've fallen. The highlight of my morning was the Great Sausage Caper. Is that sad or is that just me? Maybe it's just because it reminded me of my days in Chemistry -- the time when my partner and I almost killed the entire class when noxious fumes started spewing from our crucible. The whole class had to leave the room because it made everyone hack and cough. Given, ours wasn't the only one doing it, but ours was the first. Now that's something to be proud of, it you ask me.

So perhaps my day would be better spent searching the Food Network website for tips on cooking. Or maybe I should just spend the day cleaning and making sure all the windows are closed before it starts to rain again. Or maybe I should just accept the boredom and try to find something useful to do with my time. Either way, I can say with certainly that I started the day off with a fantastic breakfast.