The first meal I ever made was tacos. And, really, all I did was brown the meat. And, um, I screwed it up. (I also had this weird vision that the meat was still "alive" but that is a totally different post.) The second meal was a heart shaped pizza for my 8th grade boyfriend. I burned it black. I realized in that moment (after two failures) that I was not...good?...in the kitchen. I could just tell that cooking wasn't my thing, persay. Then I went to college and learned about feminism. It was GREAT. I could just not cook and play it off as some feminist thing. *chant* HELL NO, I WILL NOT BE CONSTRAINED TO THE KITCHEN. I AM LIBERATED. *bra burning*
And then....dum, dum, dum....I got married. To another non-cooker. We realized early on that it was sink or swim. Do or die. Cook or starve. We chose cook. *sigh*
I've really been improving. I even follow recipes. This weekend we had a party and I followed THREE recipes. THREE. DIFFERENT. RECIPES. ONTHESAMEDAY!
But first....the junior high Kristen surfaced.....
I had put a brown bag full of peaches in our oven to ripen. (Yeah, I don't get it either but my grandma does it and it really works. REALLY). Step one of my spinach dip was to "preheat oven." Okay. Got it. Preheat oven.
Step one should have been "remove brown bag with peaches from oven."
But, it wasn't. There was smoke. And fire. And burnt peaches.
And then there was laughing....and a good party despite the stinky beginning.
8 Comments:
HAHAHAHA.....did you not learn your lesson after the fire department had to COME TO OUR HOUSE?!?!
PS...You forgot about cooking in high school before a football game and having half of the noodles still be crunchy b/c you didn't STIR them :)
Hear you make good eggs too ;)
the fire department was our mother! guess it runs in the family! although that was an "oven cleaning accident."
oven cleaning accident b/c there was SOMETHING IN THE OVEN!!!!
just so you know, the brown bag in the cupboard works just as well as the oven--it might actually be better, for safety's sake.
on a side note, i also do not cook. are we just blaming that on feminism? cuz if so, i'm in.
I know that I blame feminism for why I don't cook. We could start a support group.
When I first started cooking, my mom told me that most anything could be frozen then thawed later on before you're about to eat it. "Cool" was my thought.
So I bought a bag of lettuce this one time... and I froze the part I didn't eat. I took it out before bed one night and put it in the fridge so it would be thawed by lunch tomorrow.
I was welcomed in the morning by brown goo all over the inside of my fridge.
i will cook for you all. hire me?
oh, we'll hire you....we just can't pay you. deal?
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