I am no great shakes in the kitchen. I'll say that right now.
But I really like green bean casserole, which is easy to make.
Recently I made it and it turned out GREAT. I mean, GREAT. It had an odd similarity to sausage pizza so, before I forget, I'd like to write down the recipe here so that future generations may enjoy it:
1. To start, you'll need to vaguely remember Campbell's green bean casserole recipe. Stop! Don't click on that link. You remember the recipe well enough probably, so you're ready to rock and roll. You should have 4 cans of green beans and 2 cans of condensed mushroom soup to start with.
2. Drain the green beans and mix the green beans and the soup into a standard casserole pan.
3. Next, realize that you don't have any of the French's fried onions. Shit. You're going to have to improvise. Uhh... goldfish crackers! Those are crunchy and orange! Crush up a cup or two of those, mixing it into the pan until it looks vaguely like you think it's suppose to. (Pro hint: use your index finger and thumb to "pop" each goldfish cracker into crumbs. This is good stress relief.)
4. Now for a dash of soy sauce. Shit, you're out of that, too. Time to find a substitute. Balsamic vinegar looks like soy sauce. Wave the bottle over the pan; you've put in more than a "splash," but that's okay. Be sure to mix it in! This will change your mushroom soup base from an unappetizing light tan to an unappetizing slightly darker tan.
5. Alright. Seasoning time. You moved last month and most of your spices are still wrapped in cling wrap. Now is a good time to pre-heat the oven, since you're struggling to liberate the spices from the cling wrap. Put it at... 450° F? Yeah, that sounds about right.
6. Okay! You can't find the seasonings you want and you sort of forget what the recipe calls for, though you have a vague notion there's garlic and celery seed, so just grab the one the says "Cajun." It includes garlic and celery seed. I checked the label, and here's what's in "Cajun": Salt, paprika, red pepper, thyme, black pepper, celery seed, garlic, and onion.
7. You should not have learned your lesson from step 4. Wave the seasoning bottle over the pan like you're Vision trying to measure out a "pinch" of paprika. Is it over-seasoned now? Probably! Well, no time to try and fix it. Just mix it all up and put it in the oven.
8. Is it still pre-heating? Hm. Well, the dog needs walked, so you might as well do that. Pop the casserole into the oven; can't hurt to get started!
9. Okay, you came back from your walk and the oven is at 450. The casserole inside is bubbling. You really should have set a timer.
10. Check on the casserole nervously a few times. It's still bubbling. Fish the soup cans out of the recycling to see if there's any warnings about under-cooking it. Nope, you're good. Well, as long as this disaster doesn't give anyone salmonella...
11. When you open the ̶o̶v̶e̶n̶ furnace you will realize that 450 is definitely way too hot. Oh, God. Oh, God! Turn it down to 380!
12. It's still bubbling. It's been 20 minutes, maybe? You have no idea. You've lost all sense of time while you were peeling oranges for your toddler. The goldfish crackers will have a brownish singe; you worry you might have burned it. Turn off the oven and leave the door open so it can cool.
13. Poke it. It should be very slightly congealed, enough to hold shape and be cut into squares. Leave it to cool for 10 or 15 minutes while you despair that it probably sucks.
14. Congratulations! Your disaster casserole is finished and somehow... it actually tastes really good?? Well, butter my ass and call me a biscuit!
Note: Although this is a joke recipe, it actually really worked.
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