I can't cook. I warned my husband about this when we started dating. Unfortunately for him, he didn't take me seriously. He thought I was only kidding when I went through my (what I think of as impressive) list of culinary disasters, which include:
- Setting the cabinets above my toaster oven on fire when making grilled cheese
- Setting my stove top on fire boiling water (who does that?!?)
- Messing up Easy Mac (apparently you don't double the cooking time when you double the amount of packets...it turns into soup).
- Setting spaghetti on fire when putting it into the water (I didn't think that one was possible)
And my favorite:
- Setting my parent's stove on fire making cupcakes.
Let's talk about that last one. About a week before Christmas a few years back, my younger sister and I decided that we wanted to make cupcakes. We put the little cupcake holder things in the pan, preheated the oven, mixed the batter, and started filling the little cups up. Once the last one was filled, I looked in the mixing bowl and discovered that I had a lot of batter left over. I told my sister that I didn't want to wait around for those cupcakes to bake and have to do another batch, so we decided to fill up the cups to the top. We stuck the tin in the oven, set the timer, went to our respective bedrooms, and turned on the TV.
About 15 minutes later I go to check on the cupcakes and discover smoke billowing out of the oven. I started to freak out and ran to get my father, who was in the next room watching The Santa Claus on TV (funny in itself because my father is Jewish and also hates Tim Allen). I screamed to my father, "The kitchen is on fire!!! Help!!!" Without even taking his eyes off of the television, he tells me to get my mother. I run upstairs to get my mom, she grabs the fire extinguisher (which my parents put in arms reach of the oven in case the urge to cook comes over me), and puts out the fire. All that was left of my cupcakes was a 3x3 inch charred piece of cake.
By the way, not being able to cook has nothing to do with not liking to eat. I love to eat. And drink. I just fail when it comes to preparing said food and drink.
After all of these (plus many more) disastrous attempts at becoming a domestic diva, I finally gave up. Thankfully my husband is an amazing cook. He's come to terms with the fact that (in the words of Carrie from Sex and the City) "The only thing I've made in the kitchen is a mess. And several small fires".
Some other things you should know about me:
- I am 28 and live in NJ with my husband Kelly and son Jackson
- I was a high school music teacher and am now a stay at home mom
- I am the oldest of 4 (I have 1 brother and 2 sisters, and there is a 13 year difference between my youngest sister and I).
- I was raised in an interfaith household. My mom is Roman Catholic, my dad, siblings, my son, and I are all Jewish, and my husband is a religious free agent.
- I met my husband while attending college and we have been together for almost 8 years
- If I had to choose a last meal, I would have a hard time choosing between my mom's Thanksgiving dinner, my husband's spaghetti and meatballs, and my grandmother's chicken soup
- I like wine and beer, particularly Malbecs and Belgium Wheats