Burnt Eggrolls and Crunchy Noodles

In what I like to think of as my cooking heyday on board SV Wyntje, I could whip up a dinner with dessert for six (with salad too if we actually had non-wilted or frozen-against-the-cold-plate greens) after a full day of sailing and dinghy-ing and cocktail hour. Cardamom-crusted lambchops with smashed sweet potatoes and a red wine reduction? Pineapple crumble with whipped cream? No problem. Although dinner was always unique, lunch would be a simple affair as we heeled down Sir Francis Drake Channel or Chesapeake Bay because running up and down the companionway to tack the sails or refill a ginger ale or find sunglasses did not accommodate the preparation of a three course lunch. I have to say rather proudly that whether it was soup and grilled sandwiches or an artful recycling (disguising) of leftovers, I could pull off (mostly) tasty concoctions for several weeks at a time. That was then (and perhaps a nostalgic view of then- ignoring memories such as the guffaws from guests about the pressure cooker risotto or running out of propane mid roast or heeling over so much that every baking attempt was so crooked that it made one seasick just looking at it).
Now, well, now its a different story.
I dropped the eggrolls into the sizzling oil, the electric burner set on High. Oil has to be hot right? So turn it right up, I thought. Not only do I not deep fry, not only do I hate electric stoves, but the fact that my body has only been poised in the galley to take warmed plates from the chef for the last eight months, well, I'm a little rusty as the basics. Like intuiting that oil heated too high will burn the poor little eggrolls to a crisp in less than 10 seconds, leaving the interior of shrimp, carmelized peanuts, and minced chicken a sickly gray. And instead of simply testing with one, I dunked all six into the popping greasiness, hoping somehow the rest wouldn't char as quickly.
Um, wrong. Luckily I had a toaster oven to finish them off in, although the crispy factor declined dramatically despite the deceiving crunchy-looking blackness.
The pad thai didn't fare well either. I was trying to follow the directions but somehow my noodles went from their soaking bath into the hot pan and became a nest of hard (not crispy) bland unruliness. I lacked most of the ingredients so I substituted and played with what I had. Veggie pad thai became crunchy (gross) noodles with sweet and sour sauced shrimp and chicken (leftovers from the eggroll filling). Forgot about the cashews and bean sprouts, didn't have soy sauce. So it turns out the only part of the meal I followed directions for was the most unsuccessful component. Of course that's because I didn't actually follow the directions. But the saucy chicken and shrimp sprinkled with scallions? Delish.

I vowed to go back to my boil-the-noodles ways, to follow directions and even read ahead to avoid those "Aw, shit!" moments, to buy a thermometer, and to remember that even though I once could throw together a meal with nary a cookbook or measuring cup in sight, relearning some skills can be as enjoyable or frustrating (tasty or inedible) as the first time around.

And the most important lesson I luckily haven't forgotten?

Presentation is everything- especially when the noodles are atrocious.