Real Kato Blog: No, Don't Eat That

Today I found out I can't cook South American food.

Today I spent about five hours attempting to make spinach-and-cheese empanadas for a party.

I'm pretty sure these were the worst empanadas ever made in the history of mankind. They were dry and flavorless, and after twenty minutes of baking, they looked like rocks dug out of the Sahara Desert. There was absolutely no way I would inflict these things on any other person.

I tried adding everything I could think of: butter, egg-yolks, salt, onions, oil, nutmeg, black pepper, red pepper... nothing helped. I think prisoners at Guantanamo Bay would prefer electro-shock torture to these things. After the fifth batch of empanada failure, I felt like slashing my wrists, only with the hope that the my own blood would help to improve the flavor.

With about an hour to go before I had to leave for the party, I gave up and made a last-ditch pasta salad. Now, I'll tell you, I make a pretty good pasta salad, but it's not exactly the kind of thing that impresses a party crowd. Still, it was a good thing that I brought the salad instead of the Crap Empanadas, because one of the guests at the party was Columbian and she knew a few things about food... she would certainly have frowned on my ridiculous imitations.

The party, by the way, began at 5:00 in the afternoon, because many of the invitees were elderly folks, or people with children. Me, I got there at 8:30 p.m., and I was the last to arrive. So, of the five pounds of pasta salad that I brought, about a half pound was eaten. Now, I have four and a half pounds of pasta salad, and sixteen Crap Empanadas, sitting in my refrigerator. Ugh.

Still, the party was fun, and I had a good empanada story to tell everyone. The host of the party was the girl whose codename on this blog is "Lily". Let me tell you, Internets, I would have a thousand babies with this girl if I could, but I can't, so I guess I need to get over it. Sigh.

On tap for tomorrow: a non-date with an ex-girlfriend. Hmm.

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