Lo The Floods They Did A' Cometh

Over the past three days I've noticed some subtle changes in the view from my kitchen window. Whereas I once had a view of your typical California parking lot, this morning I couldn't help but find the vista somewhat less serene.

The good thing about torrential rain is that it provides an excuse for my doing what I do best, namely sit on the couch in various states of undress and illegally download music in front of televised women's volleyball. If I'm really feeling motivated, I'll clean out Gladys' fish bowl or even do some spring cleaning.

But not this weekend; thanks to The Merry Krumbster, I spent 9 hours frying up various incarnations of turkey-based meat products.

You see, after graciously accepting a slightly used cast-iron skillet from Mike, I scoured the interweb for tips and tricks on how to restore and re-season my newly-acquired cookware. After concluding that most of the precedures described online were devised as a joke by teenagers on acid ("Now, use a halved potato to scrub off any excess wheat germ") I opted to take things into my own hands.

Step One: Removal of Toxic Oxidation

For reasons I can not hope to explain, I poured day-old coffee grounds and kosher salt into the pan and attacked the skillet with both great prejudice and a heavy-duty sponge. About ten minutes into the process, I looked up from the sink and realized that anybody who had bothered to glance into my window during this time had witnessed a large pasty bald man from the waist up, vigorously pumping his right arm up and down. Given that I was also shirtless, I decided that I would wait for the police to arrive while moving on to:

Step Two: Seasoning & Scorched Earth

If the online resources are to be trusted, seasoning requires only some food with a high fat content, a stove top or oven, and a doctorate in Advanced Thermodynamics. As for the food portion of the equation, Briana is not yet back from her Midwest Odyssey, so my kitchen pantry left very few seasoning options outiside of Bisquick, two types of hot sauce, and expired Toaster Strudel. Since venturing out-of-doors to Trader Joe's was not a viable option, I prayed my bachelor freezer might provide some inspiration.

Six turkey burgers, a pound of turkey bacon, and two pints of canola oil later, I was making some progress, as evidenced by my having to disable the smoke detector in the living room. When my eyes began to sting from airborne bacon, I concluded that any further "seasoning" would be foolish without consulting somebody with more experience working under these conditions. I finished the skillet in the oven set at broil and spent the rest of the night lying on the floor below the noxious blue haze and breathing through a wet towel.

Step Three: The Making of Toxic Egg Dishes

By the next day the skillet was no longer in gaseous form, but was, amzingly, still hot to the touch. In the name of metallurgy-based fine cuisine, I talked myself into formulating a breakfast menu worthy of my new cookware. Completely unable/unwilling to do that, I opted for the predictable menu of Turkey & Spinach & Mushroom Frittata with Turkey Bacon and a side of turkey bacon. Though the iron content of the meal was probably a tad on the high side, the results were surprisingly delicious.

Enjoy your meal.

I just have to avoid magnets for a few weeks.

In a related story, perhaps iron poisoning helps explain my dream last night in which I was in a plane crash with a George W. Bush look-a-like and about 100 girls all dressed like the daughters in "Little House on the Prairie."

And oh, going all the way back to the downloading of music in my skivvies, somebody please help me figure out the organ sample used in this song. Since I'm probably violating several copyright laws, I can only tell you that the band's name rhymes with Fortishead. Anyways, it isn't the theme song to "Taxi," as I originally posited.

This post really changed direction there in the end.