How to "Cook" Already Prepared Food

I open the door to our over 27-year-old fridge. This thing is like the Dumbledore of our appliances. I place my prepared food items on the fridge, a little sloppily, and scope the rest of the contents for a treat.

What up Big D?

Nothing impresses me so I head for the pantry. Ooo!!! Vienna Fingers! I dig two out of the cookie jar (about 25-years old and our version of Minerva McGonagall). I plop down on the couch and look for Shark Week reruns. No such luck so I settle on, sigh, Oprah.

Six o'clock rolls around too quickly.

I hop off the couch and skip to the fridge like a kindergartner. I open Dumbledore and survey my purchases from earlier that day: 1 spicy tuna roll, 1 package of vegetable dumplings, and 1 already prepared stuffed flounder fillet. Awesome. I place the items on the counter and stare at them with the concentration of a chess player in a championship. The only difference being those guys are busy plotting a precisely coordinated move and my mind is as empty Jessica Simpson’s.

Flounder with plastic removed.

I take out the flounder fillet and set the oven to 400 degrees as the directions state. I briefly think, “Maybe I can just deconstruct this thing, and reconstruct it. Like, literally unroll it, take the crab meat out, maybe sprinkle some salt, pepper, and paprika on it, and wrap it right back up. I can say I did it all myself, no one has to know...” The Catholic guilt moves over me like a black cloud. I continue my mission that I’ve already pretty much failed.

The only other directions state to take the plastic off the container; apparently you can cook the entrée in its store-bought package. Not much different than a Lean Cuisine. So, for those who may need reemphasis, REMOVE PLASTIC WRAP FROM CONTAINER AND DISCARD.

Sad sushi.

The spicy tuna roll and dumplings lay sappily in their temporary homes. I decide that the dumplings would probably taste better warm, like how you get them in a restaurant, but there are no directions indicating to do so. I decide to improvise. I break out the skillet and set the stove to medium/low. While I wait for the pan to heat up, I take the tuna roll out of it’s nook and attempt to make it look pretty on a plate. Unfortunately, it looked better in the plastic container with fake grass.

By this time, the oven is preheated so I shove in the flounder and set the timer for the suggested 30 minutes. “Good luck comrade.” I give a tiny salute.

Depressed dumplings.

After getting myself a Coke Zero and standing around for a while, I remember that I wanted to heat up my dumplings. I free them of their plastic cell and throw them onto the skillet. The sizzling indicates that the pan is indeed hot, as far as I can conclude. I watch them for a bit.

With Coke Zero in hand; miraculous stuff, by the way, I could just kiss whoever invented it. I check on my dumplings. Tongs serve as my tool of choice as I awkwardly shuffle them around on the pan. They look depressed. 

I get out the necessary utensils and set the table. Doesn’t look half-bad. I’m almost impressed with myself.

The timer goes off and I check on the flounder. I squint my eyes suspiciously as I poke at it with a knife like a nervous 9th grader examines his frog cadaver in biology class. A little hesitant, as if the fish is suddenly going to come to life and smack me in the face.

I conclude that the fish is done, maybe and nestle it on a plate. Surprisingly, it doesn’t look as pathetic as it did when I adopted him from Wegman’s. The sushi is patiently waiting in the fridge; I take it out and place it on the table.

Sushi on a plate. Still sad.

With a few more sizzles, and my dumplings look brown with crispiness appeal. I turn off the stove and welcome these guys to a dish as well. After everything is organized on the table, I survey my creation. I didn’t actually do anything. I am moderately disappointed in myself as a) all I did was reheat store-bought meals and b) I had trouble figuring out which burner to turn on. I have a long way to go, but I get over it as soon as I pop a piece of sushi into my mouth. The meal is satisfying even more so that I managed to get everything together just in time to beat some preteen contestants on Jeopardy. “After all... tomorrow is another day,” I hear Scarlett say. I spoil myself with two more Vienna fingers.