Don't Try This At Home

Once upon a time there was a boy. He was technically proficient and resourceful, and he liked to make things. He especially liked to make things from other things, putting his creations together in unexpected ways. They were often quite beautiful, and sometimes even technical. He had an eye for the absurd.
Which is probably what got him involved with the girl. She was strange, more or less a study in contradictions. She loved food and cooking, and writing, and reading, and stories. She tended to play it safe, and safely did things that no sane person would have done.
They loved each other and lived together in an apartment with a tiny kitchen, and the girl took great pains to put together a batterie de cuisine that would serve their every need.
They had an ice-cream maker and a whisk and they had pots and pans and an immersion blender and sharp knives and plates of all different sizes.
On Fourth of July, to prove that they were very patriotic and loyal to Asia in general and Korea in specific, the girl bought two steaks and froze them. When they were frozen through, she and the boy took turns cutting them paper thin with a very sharp knife. The boy was better at this part, so the girl busied herself making a marinade. For 1.5 pounds of sirloin, she used:
1/4 cup Safflower Oil
1/2 cup soy sauce
1 tsp. cayenne pepper (this made it VERY spicy, use less if you don't look food hot)
1 tsp. ground black pepper
1/4 cup granulated sugar
To this she added 1 packed tablespoon of fresh grated ginger and 1 bunch of finely chopped scallions, and all of the shaved beef.
She let it sit in the fridge for 1 hour, and busied herself with the rest of the meal. First for an apetizer she boiled soba noodles and ran them under cold water until chilled. She served them with a dipping sauce made of soy sauce, rice vinegar, some scallions and grated ginger. After it was all eaten, she had her guest wash and stem a 1 lb. bunch of spinach, and then she placed the leaves in a pot of boiling water until they were just wilted, and then she fished them out and let them cool off and drain. She placed them on a plate and dressed them with the remains of the dipping sauce, plus about a tablespoon and a half of sesame oil and another two tablespoons or so of rice vinegar. She snipped some scallions over this and placed it in the fridge to cool off a bit.
She had the Boy turn on the rice-maker, with rice.
When the meat had been an hour marinating, she took big flat frying pan and heated it up, without oil (because there was so much oil in the marinade). She cooked the meat in small batches (about 4 of them) for about two minutes per batch, flipping/stirring once.
She put it on a big plate and they ate with the rice and with the cold tart spinach salad. It was very good. The dish is called Bulgogi, and is Korean marinated-barbecued beef. It is traditionally served wrapped in romain lettuce with kimchee and pickled sprouts and other little dishes, but I like it like this: the rice helps tone down the spicy beef, and the cold salad is a perfect bright, clear foil for it.
After this there was apple pie. This is the part where the boy's love of making things and the girl's lack of sanity come in. You see, the girl was going to make ice-cream. She really was. But she just didn't feel like putting in the effort to make a custard base, the care it takes to be sure the eggs don't cook and base does not curdle. But something had to be served with the pie, because the guest had brought it with her so the girl had not put any effort into dessert at all.
Why not whip the cream, the girl asked?
And realized she did not have an electric beater, nor even something as boring and simple as an eggbeater. All she has was whisk.
The boy looked across the room at his toolbag, where an electric drill peaked out.
No? YES.
Yes, dear readers, we were that stupid. Zac attached my whisk to his electrid drill, and we used it as an electric beater. It did not explode or even merely fall apart: it whipped the cream up beautifully. I wish I had a picture of myself standing over the bowl of cream with a drill attached to a whisk in my hand. Maybe next time, though.
But don't try it at home, unless you are A) very technically profficient and B) utterly insane.

Heh. It worked.
I have whipped cream in my fridge for dessert tonight, probably with a hotted up piece of leftover apple pie.
Crazy has its benefits.