There's a sign in my kitchen that reads, "I have a kitchen because it came with the house."
Cooking is not my forte. I might be good at other things, but cooking is not one of them. I have friends who are excellent cooks. My mom is a great cook. My sister will jump at the chance to try a new recipe. Me, on the other hand, well...
It's not that I can't cook, it's just that I'm not good at it. It doesn't come naturally to me. If I don't royally screw up the recipe and final product, I'll at least make a good mess and make a trillion mistakes before all is said and done. Nevermind that waaay back in my 4-H days I actually made a lemon bread that won a ribbon at the Colorado State Fair. No. That Angie is long gone.
It turns out, that if I were looking for a blogging "niche," I could easily write a year's worth of posts on my cooking catastrophes alone.
Case in point: one of the first meals I made for Gary as a newlywed was lasagna. I remember being so excited. I pulled down the box of noodles from the shelf, and began reading the recipe. Yes, folks, the recipe on the side of the box. Don't laugh. I mixed the cheeses and eggs together, I browned the meat, I prepared the sauce... this would be delicious and my new man would be SO impressed. I began layering, topped it with cheese, sprinkled parsley on top and put it in the oven. With my creation safely in the oven, cooking it's way into Osborne family history, I buttered the French bread, made the salad, set the table... this would be a feast. The smell after an hour was heavenly. I had done it! I made lasagna!
I remember feeling giddy with anticipation as we sat down to eat that night. Gary was going to be so proud of his new bride, and this would set the tone for years of great home-cookin' and delicious meals. I went to cut the lasagna... and my heart sank to my empty stomach. Something wasn't right. Would you believe that in all the lasagna preparation, in all of the reading-the-recipe-off-of-the-box-of-noodles, that I forgot to open the darn box and USE the stinkin' noodles?!
With my dreams of being a domestic diva crushed, I went to the cupboard and took out two bowls and two spoons, and we proceeded to have lasagna soup. It was very disappointing.
Gary has been very gracious over the years and doesn't tease me about this. He leaves that up to my family. But it did set a standard for my cooking... a low standard that's not usually too hard to surpass. And so you know, I've successfully made lasagna a dozen times since then. And it's yummy.
But the other night was not one of those times. Oops... I did it again.
No, I didn't forget the noodles this time, but it was a comedy of errors...
Stay tuned for PART TWO, coming later today or tomorrow!