I was finishing a jar of extremely hot peppers (7 pot primos) that I had fermenting on Thanksgiving day. I made a hot sauce with them and cantaloupe. I had them in a pan at a low simmer to meld the flavors. The problem was the steam coming off was potent as hell. It filled the house when everyone was arriving and coughing from the hot sauce in the air, me included. We had to open all the windows, dig out the fans to get it out of the house, freezing everyone in the process.
I went to spend Christmas with my in-laws about ten years ago and ruined their meal.
I’m not a bad cook, I know my way around a kitchen, my mom ran a fast food joint when I was a teen and she taught me how to work my ass off in a kitchen. From that start I’ve developed into a pretty good cook (or so my wife and friends tell me). I’m not the best but I do know how to cook. I know how to make prepare and serve a full Thanksgiving dinner with all the trimmings and desserts on my own if I had to.
At my in-laws place for Christmas I knew I should help so I just started doing dishes without asking. The place was hectic, the in-laws barely know how to cook and none of them seem to appreciate any spice other than salt or pepper. Everyone was happy I was helping and I kept the kitchen clean as the cooks worked. It was familiar for me and it amazed everyone else.
After a couple of hours of helping I thought I’d do more. They were making gravy and all it was was thin water from the drippings mixed with flour which made a white watery tasteless gravy. I thought I’d amaze them by making a roux with the own drippings, thickening the liquid, browning it to a golden color, adding salt, pepper, spice, a drop of maple syrup, soya sauce and a dash of Worcestershire. I kept tasting it and to me it was delicious. I had practiced for years and I knew how to make it taste good.
The in laws came in and the room went quiet, even the Christmas music stopped … they all looked at me like I murdered the cat and I was cooking it.
They were all upset that I had changed “Ma’s gravy” and turned it into something else. Everyone was either disappointed at best or just sneered at me like I had thrown a brick into the living room window.
I didn’t burn anything, didn’t over salt, didn’t make anyone sick, no fire, no explosions, blood or burns … I had just ruined “Ma’s gravy” of basically water and flour that everyone ate and somehow enjoyed every Christmas.
It was the weirdest TIFU in the kitchen I ever experienced.
Oh no! That’s such an unfortunate fuck-up. Not really your fuck-up, to be fair, it’s mind-boggling that nobody appreciated your very clearly tastier gravy. There really is no accounting for taste. As the Spanish say, ‘para gustos, los colores’ - there are as many preferences as there are colours!
As much as I love my wife and her family … in their family there is only one color for gravy … white … basic, bland, tasteless, empty, vacant, soulless, heartless white.
The best part is that I don’t think they like ‘Ma’s gravy’ either.
They cover their food with the tasteless white gravy and then dose it with lots and lots of salt everywhere. Even as we ate, people just regularly picked up the salt to sprinkle some more on during the entire meal. A telling part is that no one, even me, would think of consuming the gravy without salt.
The funniest thing was the next year I went for Christmas. They guarded the gravy from me. I still helped in the kitchen because they liked that. Then just when the meal started, they set aside a cup of gravy for me in a pot and said I could make my own if I wanted to. I was polite and said that I would have ‘Ma’s gravy’ instead … and reached for the salt. Lol