Quiche Valdez
I made a mortal cooking error last night. I flipped my Quiche.
Yes, you read right. I flipped it.
Picture the scene. You have just finished making a Quiche Lorraine in the oven and it sits on the worktop in its impenetrable foil shield. You can't send the fighters in to destroy its shield because it's not fucking Star Wars, so you'll have to lift it out. I don't have a quiche-lifting-implement. I'll bet one exists, because there's a device to sharpen pencils with an electric motor; so there must be something to lift a quiche out of a foil tray. Making do with a knife, a plastic spoon, and our filthy 'fat-man's-hands' oven glove, I tried to lift it. However I could tell the underside integrity was buckling. In a moment of desperation, I enacted a foolish plan. Maybe, I thought, if I just flip it onto the plate and pull off the foil, I can upright it after and all will be well. And so I did.
And it stuck. The top of a quiche is stickier than it looks, and it stuck to the plate like a Greenpeace protester to a tree. I tried to lever it up again, but by now it'd had enough and was beginning to fragment. Impatiently, I flipped it back with the knife and the quiche fell in half. The top crumbled, the sides shrieked in protest and gallons of creamy cheese and bacon poured from its severed wounds. The more I tried to correct it, the worse it became, until it was a pile of mutilated quiche remains. With vegetables. It's estimated half a dozen unique species were wiped out in the disaster. And it just didn't taste the same, either.
Remember kiddies, never flip a quiche.
Yes, you read right. I flipped it.
Picture the scene. You have just finished making a Quiche Lorraine in the oven and it sits on the worktop in its impenetrable foil shield. You can't send the fighters in to destroy its shield because it's not fucking Star Wars, so you'll have to lift it out. I don't have a quiche-lifting-implement. I'll bet one exists, because there's a device to sharpen pencils with an electric motor; so there must be something to lift a quiche out of a foil tray. Making do with a knife, a plastic spoon, and our filthy 'fat-man's-hands' oven glove, I tried to lift it. However I could tell the underside integrity was buckling. In a moment of desperation, I enacted a foolish plan. Maybe, I thought, if I just flip it onto the plate and pull off the foil, I can upright it after and all will be well. And so I did.
And it stuck. The top of a quiche is stickier than it looks, and it stuck to the plate like a Greenpeace protester to a tree. I tried to lever it up again, but by now it'd had enough and was beginning to fragment. Impatiently, I flipped it back with the knife and the quiche fell in half. The top crumbled, the sides shrieked in protest and gallons of creamy cheese and bacon poured from its severed wounds. The more I tried to correct it, the worse it became, until it was a pile of mutilated quiche remains. With vegetables. It's estimated half a dozen unique species were wiped out in the disaster. And it just didn't taste the same, either.
Remember kiddies, never flip a quiche.