I was feeling great on Tuesday. Really. Like super super great. Not tired a bit. So great, in fact, that I decided to cook when I got home from work. That NEVER happens. These days, if I don't have something to reheat, I end up eating cheese for dinner. Cheese and crackers -- sometimes augmented with a scoop of pb -- has been dinner for at least 50% of my nights since I was about 7 weeks along. But I digress. On Tuesday, I was feeling fantastic so I decided to cook my version of sloppy joes. I say "my version" because they don't much resemble actual sloppy joes. I do follow a basic joe recipe, but I generally add in whatever veggies I have laying around. So in addition to peppers and onions, this time I added carrots and tomatoes and spinach. Then, I scoop them onto gluten free crackers and bake them in the oven until they're less sloppy and more set. Then I eat like a king. Anyway, I had my mouth totally set for these joes. Mmm... I chopped veggies and browned meat. Which turned out to be my problem. The ground meat I had was turkey that had been in the deep freezer for awhile. Awhile being a few months but not years or anything. When I went to get it, I noticed that it was a little grey. That made me uncomfortable, but I REALLY wanted these sloppy joes so I decided that I'd cook it anyway. After all, what sort of bacteria could be on it that wouldn't be killed if I fully cooked it, right? And it didn't smell. At least not at first.
As I started browning the meat, I noticed a funny smell. Not bad, exactly, but also not what I'd expect from browning ground beef. Or chicken. Which are the two meats I brown most frequently. Again, really really wanting those sloppy joes, I convinced myself that it was just because I haven't cooked with ground turkey before so it's probably just the normal aroma of a different type of meat. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Fast forward x minutes to having my meat browned, all of my veggies tender and/or wilted, my sauce seasoned to perfection, and everything all ready to be spooned onto crackers and popped into the oven. Before spooning it on, I decided to taste the finished product to make sure it didn't need any extra Worcestershire or vinegar. I ate about a tablespoon, just to confirm that my sauce was right. And it tasted funny. Not hideous or disgusting or anything, just not right. In fact, I think that if I'd served it to anyone else, they wouldn't have known because my joes are so dramatically different than a normal one is. I'm not sure anyone would have enjoyed these, exactly because they didn't taste particularly good, but at that same token, they really didn't taste bad. So I tried some more. Again, just about a tablespoon. Just to make sure. And sure enough, it just didn't taste right. So I dumped the whole batch. I was crushed. I had wanted those sloppy joes so very badly and now, I had used up all of my tomatoes and spinach, so I couldn't even throw together a taco salad or anything. <sigh> so it was another night of cheese for dinner.
Several hours later, my sloppy joe disappointment turned into sloppy joe horror as I started not feeling well and then started feeling sick and then started getting sick. From my two tablespoons of the much sought after sloppy joes. I looked it up online just to make sure I wasn't out of my mind thinking that I'd been poisoned by a mere two tablespoons of fully cooked meat that hadn't been sitting out for even a few minutes. And sure enough, there are strains of bacteria that release toxins that are not destroyed during cooking. Fortunately, I hadn't fed any to Henry and Matt wasn't home so I hadn't asked him to taste it for me. And just as fortunately, I only ate two meager tablespoons. But oh, I was just so very very sick. I feel better today. Still a little tired, but not so sick. But I may never eat again. Ever. <sigh> so much for feeling good enough to cook dinner, eh? Seems as if I should take the signs the universe is sending me and become a strict cheeseatarian. That's a thing, right?
cheesatarian doesn't sound all that bad...I had to throw away a huge bag of chicken the other week that we forgot to bag up and freeze. smelled like ammonia. bad. after being unsatisfied that it would kill me and several internet searches that told me to get rid of it, I called mom who told me to promptly throw it away. She knew I was trying not to, but I did, and it's probably a happier story because of it. Boring, but more pleasant.
ReplyDeleteI wish I'd have listened to my gut on that one, too. Not only did I end up wasting the meat, but I wasted all of the veggies and time and energy. What a dummy. Lesson learned. I have to think I won't be making that mistake again.
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