I failed epically.
I didn’t set out to fail, but in hindsight,
my actions (or lack of) aligned with failure.
One evening, I returned home to find slim pickings when it came to making dinner.
My grocery shopping procrastination just caught up with me.
So I started searching in my kitchen with what food I had on hand.
Hickory-smoked tuna. Check.
Pasta. Check.
Mayo. Check.
Or so I thought.
As I was making the pasta and already opened the tuna, I realized the date on the mayo was expired.
No problem. I have another one in the pantry.
Or so I thought.
That, too, was expired.
Now what do I do without mayonnaise?
I’m no Bobby Flay, but I could try a recipe.
A quick Google search and voila!
A mayo recipe.
I had all the ingredients including an immersion blender.
Minutes in to blending lemon juice, mustard, oil, and an egg, I realized something went horribly wrong.
It did not look like mayonnaise.
Not. At. All.
In fact, despite adding mixing time, I ended up with a dripping, mustardy mess.
A quick taste matched the visual mess.
What I did have was a messy kitchen blender, wasted time, and ingredients.
Not to be deterred, I asked myself what we had that looked like mayonnaise.
Bingo!
Spicy ranch dressing.
Spicy ranch with hickory smoked tuna and pasta.
That’s workable.
Was dinner an epic fail?
Yes.
Maybe not a colossal one, but nonetheless, an epic fail.
But edible.
Was something new created?
Absolutely.
Did I learn something?
Many things.
Will I be able to ever beat renowned chef, Bobby Flay?
Never.
But this I do know…
Epic is relative.
Epic fails…
…don’t last.
…teach us what not to do.
…get us out of our comfort zone.
…tap into our creative.
Cheers to ingenuity and to your next epic fail.
If you’re not failing, you’re not growing.
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