Overcooking

Is there a working stiff on the planet who needs this on a weeknight?

(The point at which abandoning my home and riding the rails seems like an easier option than cleaning up.)

Is there a working stiff on the planet with three jobs and no dishwasher who needs this on a weeknight?

***

As much as I love that the internet has allowed anyone and everyone to have a voice, I must admit there are things about the timbre that voice occasionally takes that get on my nerves. 
 
One in particular is where the author is ostensibly trotting out some personal foibles in order to poke fun at himself or herself.  But, in fact, the writer is actually using the guise of self-deprecation as a means to self-aggrandizement.  It's sort of "Let me tell you about this ever-so-terribly embarrassing thing I did (that really points out how precious and adorable I am)."  (Giggle, twist curl around finger coquettishly.)
 
I should find an example, but then actually calling a real person out on it just seems meaner than I want to be right now.  So maybe you will to go with me on this if it doesn't ring a bell. 
 
Anyway, point is, I realize that this blog could sometimes seem like that too.  Like my descriptions of cook-a-thons aren't really the sometimes mildly-embarrassing public admission of what is at best questionable judgment or tenuous grasp on the limits of the space-time continuum, and at worst, actual compulsions.  Rather, they are, in fact, as I have possibly not-jokingly been accused of (on my own blog!!) bragging.
 
Well, I am certainly susceptible to occasionally getting a big head about things, but most of the time my descriptions of what I'm up to are, genuinely, like notes from a science experiment and a way to process and then fix in my own mind what I learned.
 
Today, I am writing a post about a cook-a-thon that isn't to that end.  However, though this might sound like I am about to enter into "Let me tell you about this ever-so-terribly embarrassing thing I did (that really points out how precious and adorable I am)" type of anecdote, I want to clarify right now: I am actually truly irritated with myself.
 
All I wanted to do was use up the baby broccoli I bought and did not use for the Fourth of July.  That's it!  Okay, and maybe make some pesto since I also had a lot of basil left-over and I would hate to waste it.
 
I didn't mean for this to happen:

(THREE bowls.  THREE.  Not 1 million.)

I couldn't just make the pesto (and freeze it for later), I had to make a pasta salad.  And I couldn't just make a PASTA salad, I had to once again make a whole batch of lentils to go into it for some added protein.
 
And I couldn't just make one big stir-fry and use up the baby broccoli that way.  I had to split it into two dishes, and see how well it worked instead of broccoli rabe in the Broccoli Rabe with Bulgur and Walnuts.
 
Just to clarify:

• Stir-fry – vegetable chopping, rice cooking, wok-usage (which generally involves longer clean-up for me because it isn't really seasoned that well)
• Pasta Salad with Lentils and Pesto – How many components is that that require completely separate preparation AND their own cooking/prep vessel? 
• Baby Broccoli with Bulgur and Walnuts – Again, the bulgur is prepared, then the broccoli is steamed and only then are all the components brought together IN YET ANOTHER PAN.

As though this wasn't bad enough…I still had some Greek God yogurt and two limes that were on their way out so heck WHY NOT ALSO MAKE A SCALED-DOWN LOW-SUGAR BATCH OF THAT SHERBET?
 
Who does this?
 
I'm not saying I didn't enjoy the cooking while I was doing it.  I was happily in the Zone of No-Thought for about three solid hours. But I really had better things to be doing with the evening and at the end of that three hours, I had an entire kitchen of dishes that needed to be washed.

I guess if I want to find the positive in this, I could say it is yet more evidence for the new Universal Lesson that I keep getting on my soapbox about with all my friends.  My selection for This Month's Universal Lesson is: if you are a stimulation junkie/ADD-case/creative type, you better think of your brain as a very energetic puppy.  You can either give it structure and appropriate toys or you can expect it will start chewing your Laboutins and peeing on your suit when you are already late for work.
 
I need the Dog Whisperer for the creative side of my brain.  And, I suppose, it would be better if I took it for a little walk every day instead of saving it all up for a big visit to the dog park once a week.
 
Luckily, for once when I run smack dab into my own frustrating tendencies, I actually have the happy reassurance that I have already taken action to do something about them. I have made three big moves over the past couple of weeks to start giving myself the space for just that kind of regular creative and physical activity to serve as an outlet for my brain's rambunctious energy.  

And, once I'm done being irritated with myself, I can see that the evening wasn't entirely without its culinary merits.  For one, I did now have several days worth of meals out of the way.

For another, I was able to make all three of the main dishes entirely with things I had on hand; I didn't have to go to the store for anything.  And I pretty much just threw everything together on the spot, only referring to the Bulgur recipe because I like the end result so much just as is.

(Clockwise from left: Pasta Salad with Black Lentils, Pesto & Sun-Dried Tomatoes; Baby Broccoli with Bulgur and Walnuts and Baby Broccoli and Shiitake Stir-Fry.  Not pictured: three hours of my life that I needed to spend on other things.)

On Chow.com when you create a profile, they have you answer some standard getting-to-know-you type of questions.  My answer, from probably about December of last year, to the fill in the blank of "I really wish I could…" was "Cook without thinking so hard."  It's nice to see I am making some real progress with that.  Now if I could just exercise some judgment about WHEN I am cooking without thinking so hard, that would be awesome.