Step One: While suffering a bout of insomnia and watching Top Chef All Star re-runs, come to the realization that you are hungry.
Step Two: Decide to download one of Chef Fabio’s “recipeasys”. Curse him under your breath because recipeasy is the most annoying combination of mashed up English words ever.
Step Three: Peruse the contents of your fridge and discover that you have most of the ingredients needed. Decide that scallions are the slutty second cousins of onions, so onions will work fine. Also? Heavy cream is totally the same thing as 2% milk.
Step Four: Collect ingredients and begin assemblage. Insert pie crust in oven to pre-bake. Re-read the recipe and realize that it doesn’t call for pie crust. Proceed anyway.
Step Five: Attempt to separate egg yolks from egg whites. It, um, doesn’t work. Whisk it all together and call the Top Chef contestants pussies for making things harder than they have to be.
Step Six: THE PIE CRUST IS BURNING.
Step Seven: Wave a pillow around the smoke detector. Open windows. And front door. Your cremated pie crust mocks you from the oven.
Step Eight: Start defrosting the sausage in the microwave. Pat yourself on the back because you remembered to take it out of the package (this time) because apparently metal is not good for microwaves.
Step Nine: Your only non-stick pan is nowhere to be found. (Fucking gnomes…) Slick your mother’s ancient green frying pan with butter flavored PAM because you don’t have any olive oil. Of course you don’t.
Step Ten: Chop onion. Draw blood. Wrap pinkie in paper towels.
Step Eleven: Fry sausage, onions, and mushrooms. Decide that wearing oven mitts during this process is probably a good idea so you don’t get splattered by grease.
Step Twelve: Scrape up the shit you just spilled on the floor while trying to flip it all fancy-like in your attempt to convince yourself that you could totally be on Top Chef. Your bleeding pinkie says otherwise.
Step Thirteen: Dump the egg and sausage mixture into the pie crust. It overflows. The words FUCKING QUICHE MONKEY BASTARD may or may not leave your mouth. Re-read the recipe again and realize that you’ve inadvertently doubled the amount egg and sausage mixture the recipe calls for. Good thing you remembered to put the pie crust on a cookie sheet before pouring. Didn’t you?
Step Fourteen: Wipe up the spillage and put the quiche in the oven. Remember to set a time approximately five minutes later.
Step Fifteen: When the timer goes off, your quiche looks like this:
Step Sixteen: You notice that the center of the quiche is still liquid-y, while the outside has taken on the consistency of freshly poured cement. Contemplate covering it with foil and sticking it back in the oven to let it finish baking. After digging through your cabinets, it becomes obvious that you don’t have any foil. Decide to sop up the soupy quiche innards with a paper towel.
Step Seventeen: Chance salmonella food poisoning and take a bite. It’s… not good. Chew a few more times. Nope, chewing doesn’t improve the taste.
Step Eighteen: Praise be to the Butter Gods (and Paula Deen) that you also made a sweet potato pie. Here’s to hoping that little dash of chipotle doesn’t ruin that whole thing.