Yesterday, before leaving for the day, I put a turkey roast and vegetables in the outdoor crockpot. Feeling especially smug, I even got busy with the (indoor) rice cooker.A couple of hours later, from about five miles away, I couldn’t remember if I’d turned the crockpot on. (More than once I’ve come home, expecting to be greeted by the aromas of slow cooking, only to find a crockpot of raw food.)
I text a friend, S., who lives nearby, and on her way out, she checked the pot: all systems go.
Three hours later, worried about over-cooking, I texted another friend and neighbor, R., and asked her to run over and flip the roast.
I was feeling pretty good about things when the roast was cooked to perfection at 6. I felt less good when my 16 year old ate half the roast before anyone sat down to dinner and I had to order Chinese.
Oh, and it seems I forgot to turn the rice cooker on.
Sometimes you really can’t win.