Nuggets in the oven
By Owen Barker
It was no surprise to me when Cam and I were invited to Dom’s birthday. We were an inseparable trio. It was a surprise to learn that his parents had permitted us to cook our own dinner. I had thought they’d be wary of allowing us in a kitchen. The silver lining was the meal: chicken nuggets and perogies with peas. Surely we couldn’t mess that up, right?
We headed to Sobeys, braving the December cold in order to return with our required ingredients. Upon our return, we got to work, starting by emptying the entire box of nuggets into a sheet pan. In our limitless foresight, we had already thrown out the instructions. As such, we filled two random pots with an arbitrary amount of water, set the oven to an arbitrary 350° F, and hoped for the best. About 13 minutes later, we threw the potatoes and peas in the roiling liquid and slammed the lids back over them. Then we took a look at the nuggets. As one might expect, the tops weren’t cooked, but rather than flip them over, we simply shoved them back into the oven before returning to Super Smash Bros. Another 25 minutes passed. Dom’s father’s voice echoed through the room, informing us that the food was probably done.
We plated everything with haste, eager to sample the fruits of our labor. The overcooked nuggets, which had not been flipped, were partially burnt. They were like a fork in the road, where one path led to you hurting your teeth on the rock-hard burnt side, and the other led to feeling mildly uncomfortable as your teeth slid through the nugget like it was butter. The perogies were flavourless and bland, owing to their lack of seasoning. And the peas, oh, the glorious peas. Although they had appeared normal when in the water, once plated, their structural integrity was severely reduced. All we could do was watch as their innards spilled out in a steaming pile of green goop. Lesson learned: always read the instructions.
The following year, our trio gathered again, striving to prove ourselves. After poring over the instructions for thirty minutes, we gave it another shot. Cooking the same food to near perfection, and we claimed our redemption for the previous year’s failings.
It was no surprise to me when Cam and I were invited to Dom’s birthday. We were an inseparable trio. It was a surprise to learn that his parents had permitted us to cook our own dinner. I had thought they’d be wary of allowing us in a kitchen. The silver lining was the meal: chicken nuggets and perogies with peas. Surely we couldn’t mess that up, right?
We headed to Sobeys, braving the December cold in order to return with our required ingredients. Upon our return, we got to work, starting by emptying the entire box of nuggets into a sheet pan. In our limitless foresight, we had already thrown out the instructions. As such, we filled two random pots with an arbitrary amount of water, set the oven to an arbitrary 350° F, and hoped for the best. About 13 minutes later, we threw the potatoes and peas in the roiling liquid and slammed the lids back over them. Then we took a look at the nuggets. As one might expect, the tops weren’t cooked, but rather than flip them over, we simply shoved them back into the oven before returning to Super Smash Bros. Another 25 minutes passed. Dom’s father’s voice echoed through the room, informing us that the food was probably done.
We plated everything with haste, eager to sample the fruits of our labor. The overcooked nuggets, which had not been flipped, were partially burnt. They were like a fork in the road, where one path led to you hurting your teeth on the rock-hard burnt side, and the other led to feeling mildly uncomfortable as your teeth slid through the nugget like it was butter. The perogies were flavourless and bland, owing to their lack of seasoning. And the peas, oh, the glorious peas. Although they had appeared normal when in the water, once plated, their structural integrity was severely reduced. All we could do was watch as their innards spilled out in a steaming pile of green goop. Lesson learned: always read the instructions.
The following year, our trio gathered again, striving to prove ourselves. After poring over the instructions for thirty minutes, we gave it another shot. Cooking the same food to near perfection, and we claimed our redemption for the previous year’s failings.
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