We Were Out of Cereal
I consider myself a fairly clever person. I can put together flat-packed furniture with no problems. I can fix a running toilet, change a light bulb, decipher a knitting pattern, and read a map. I’m well-educated, and have basic common sense.
Which is why this morning’s breakfast was such a disappointment. Because I cannot cook.
In a fit of “Oh, I’ll surprise Mr. Martini and make breakfast for him this morning!” I attempted to make pancakes and bacon. It did not turn out well. I’m blaming the fact that I used the smooth-top stove for the first time to pan fry things (I’m only used it to boil water so far – for pasta and for the stuffing mix for our Thanksgiving dinner). So I wasn’t prepared for how hot it got, or how fast it would happen, or how slowly it would take to cool off once I lowered the heat.
Let’s just say that I served Mr. Martini black pancakes, and our house still smells like burnt bacon.
As I said to Mr. Martini, “This is why I don’t cook more.”
To which he replied, “No, this is why you should cook more.”
Touche, Mr. Martini. Touche.
We considered lodging a complaint about the lack of bacon in our diets. Then we saw the bacon. We’re fine, thanks.
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Precisely why I don’t cook either!
A for effort? If it makes you feel any better, I have a ridiculous fear of undercooked food so I overcook everything. This is why my husband makes his own dinner most of the time.
I just found your blog, and I must tell you that I think we were separated at birth. I’m currently in Knoxville, getting ready to move to Chicago, and the cat mom of FIVE Siamese cats (we started with two from a breeder too…then we just kept rescuing more and more. Your two are beautiful!) Oh, and I also burn pancakes. My husband says that the only thing I make well is reservations!