Fresh, made-from-scratch Egg SNAFU.  Sounds hoity toity and French, doesn't it?  Actually, it's a military acronym for my-breakfast-was-all-messed-up.  Or, more accurately, Situation Normal:  All Fouled (eh ehm) Up.

SNAFU has a cousin named FUBAR.  He was in the kitchen that morning too.  I'll just let you google what he stands for.  Love our United States Military acronyms.  Love them.  Just not at my breakfast table.

This was THE most simple breakfast.  (No, I didn't intend THE there as an acronym).  But if you have a good one for THE ... let me know in the comments below.

See ... look ... simple ingredients.  I've done this before.  Piece of cake.

Except ... I was using someone else's kitchen.  And that changes the whooooole ballgame.  Especially when in an effort to multi-task and tackle the world in a day, I start cooking before sipping my first cup of coffee.  Tsk. Tsk.  No cooking without caffeine.  Big mistake.  BIG.  HUGE.

I knew that cooking was going to get interesting when the photographer slid a drink measure/beaker out of the cabinet when I asked him for a measuring cup.  A cup of milk ... a pint of liquor ...  pshaw!  What's the difference?  Let's just go with it.

So, I take a 1/2 pint of the Best Beaker Drink Mixer full of milk and get stared.

We scramble up a whole dozen eggs and get them cooking.

Meanwhile, I try to make "the sauce."

Which is simply just spinach and cream that's supposed to be pureeeed.  Or puraaeehhyd depending on how you pronounce it.

Thing is, not having a food processor we (I) chose to use the puree function on the blender.

Thing is, spinach doesn't weigh nothin, so it doesn't sink to the bottom where the blades are.  And you end up with wet spinach. Ha!

Angus McHaggis was not impressed.  Good thing he already had breakfast this morning and wasn't waiting for any scraps to fall on the floor.

DO OVER!

I threw out the first batch.  Washed out the blender.  Then cut the dang spinach.

Then I chopped the spinach ...

And then I made some resemblance of a sauce.  With the little floaty green bits  it still wasn't quite finely chopped enough for me.

This just wasn't my day in the kitchen.

I forgot my lucky apron, I measured milk with a beaker, and then ...

Jim was going crazy taking pictures of the sometimes difficult to find puffed pastry ...

Because, you know, I've cooked with puffed pastry many times before ...

And people have commented, "where do I get that?  What's it called?"  And so I thought it would be clever to include a photo of the packaging of Pepperidge Farm Puffed Pastry ...

And as I rolled it out of the packaging I cocked my head to the side and asked, "why is this round?"

O. M. G.

I have pie crust in my hand!  And I didn't even notice until I rolled it out on the pan!

Buwhahahahaaah!  I laughed hysterically.

Somehow, we didn't get a picture of that because I went into "emergency search and rescue" mode and hopped in my car to drive about 10 blocks to pick up the real deal.

Only, now the closest and first store I went to was all OUT of puffed pastry.

So I drove to a second store.  Still laughing at myself.  But also getting very hungry and having a lack-of-enough-caffeine headache.

I succeeded in finding puffed pastry.  But with it being frozen solid we aborted the mission.

Lesson learned?  DO NOT, I repeat, DO NOT go grocery shopping at 7:00 am.  That time of the morning is reserved only for drinking coffee and making breakfast.  The bright lights and sensory overload of your normal florescent lighted lit-up-like-Las-Vegas super food store is too much to handle before consuming a pot of coffee.  You're likely to get distracted and forget something ... like ... puffed pastry!

Ugh!

At least Jim got to eat some awesome tasting scrambled eggs while I drove all over Tarnation looking for the missing and most important ingredient.

FUBAR I tell you.  An absolute FUBAR SNAFU.  And the irony is I had an audition this same week for Army Wives.  Good thing I'm getting the acroynm practice in.

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