A Valentine's Dinner Debacle

I am never, ever eating crab-stuffed mushrooms again. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me backtrack to Thursday night, Feb. 14. My husband and I thought we'd crack open the Swank Diet book, which has a section on "The Cocktail Party," and pick out a few tasty-sounding items to have our own mini cocktail party (minus the cocktails, which was Mistake #1).

We chose the crab-stuffed mushrooms and shrimp balls (hahahahaha), and I secretly bought some heart-shaped aluminum pans to make, yes, heart-shaped cornbread. I also planned a reprise of the cupcakes. (You can read about my first experience with the cupcakes here: Something Looks Very, Very Wrong.)

Sounds adorable, right? Well, not so much. I made the cupcakes first. That is to say, I tried to make the cupcakes first. The batter was stiff and unyielding. I could barely stir it. Foolishly, I crammed the thick wad into our food processor. The machine made some alarming groaning noises while I stood and stared at it. Yes, it occurred to me that I should hit the "off" switch, but somehow I kept thinking if I let the processor noisily grind on, the clump of cupcake batter would start to liquefy. Instead, I noticed a smell, followed very quickly by smoke. "Huh," I thought. "That is bad."

I laboriously scraped out the heavy wad of dough, which in no way resembled anything I could cram into the 12 small hollows in the cupcake pan. I eyed the heart-shaped aluminum pans. A ha! I could use one of them for the cupcakes, which I had now decided would be more like a large brownie. Problem solved! I spread the dough into the tray and popped it in the oven and turned my attention to the cornbread. This recipe has quickly become a favorite, so I had no problems with it. The brownie took a long time to bake. Like, twice as long as the recipe said it would take. When the center was finally not raw, the edges had stiffened to a rock-like consistency. I was hopeful that a liberal application of fat-free frozen yogurt would help.

"Hey, this isn't fat free!"

Except, as Wee Squeaky helpfully points out above, I had neglected to BUY fat-free frozen yogurt, so excited was I at the prospect of the peanut butter cups and graham cracker bits. Blast!! So much for rescuing the rock-like brownie with yummy yogurt.

Let's move on to the main courses: the shrimp balls and crab-stuffed mushrooms. My husband and I made these together, which was fun. We turned on some music and chopped and sauteed away, enjoying the experience and the smells of what was sure to be a delightful dinner. Well. The shrimp balls were a bit bland, but with a heavy dose of seasoned salt, they were edible. The mushrooms were an altogether different story. Maybe the crab was off. Whatever the case, they made a rapid trip down the garbage disposal. It is important at this part of the story to note that they were large mushrooms I had bought. Like, golf-ball size. In my haste to be rid of the sight and smell of them, I crammed about 15 into the disposal and turned it on. (I should have learned a lesson after ruining the food processor.) But all seemed well. Until this morning.

I had noticed a vague odor in the basement, but that's where we keep the litterboxes, so I assumed one of the cats had recently paid a visit. I did my daily scoop, but the smell was still there. It was quite gross.

"Did one of the cats refuse to use the box?" I wondered. I followed the bad smell into the bathroom. The scene that followed is as horrible as the shower scene from Psycho. You've been warned. I pulled back the shower curtain to reveal THIS:

Something smelly exploded in the shower.

Capt. Nap? Squeaky? Who is responsible for this? More importantly, who is going to clean it?

I shrieked and called over my husband. We stared in appalled horror. Naturally, I thought one of the cats might have crept into the shower and, well, vomited, but whatever was all over the shower floor had a familiar smell. Like CRAB AND MUSHROOMS. I reported this to my husband, who then asked what had happened to the remains of our dinner. I told him about jamming the entire mess into the garbage disposal. He sighed. Apparently, there was some kind of backup and it's bad to do what I did. Ugh. He left to get some drain cleaner and I just left the house. No, not really (although I was sorely tempted). I hauled out a sponge, some gloves, and some Comet and began scrubbing.

This episode was as revolting as you probably are imagining. And that's why I am never, ever eating crab-stuffed mushrooms again. Ever.