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There’s an opened bottle of barbecue sauce abandoned on my counter. A cutting board with shards of broccoli spears scattered across it. The pan I cooked the chicken in looks like something died in it. But in a way, it kind of did.

They’re all remnants of my latest failed cooking experiment.

I’ve never been much of a cook, despite my mom’s attempts with a Cooking Light subscription to turn me into one (sorry mom). I survive on a steady diet of quesadillas, soup and cereal. I can make a good salad if I’m feeling ambitious.

I have a collection of recipes I break out now and then to wow people. Stuff like potato and chicken soup in a crock pot. Or a really lame version of chicken curry. Or  tortellini with cherry tomatoes, feta, spinach and sausage, which almost sounds reasonable.

I used to have a salmon recipe I cooked for a couple boyfriends in a row, but then someone called me out so I don’t cook it anymore.

It’s not that I don’t like cooking … well, it is. It wouldn’t be so bad if you could just leave once you took everything out of the fridge and come back to a steaming plate of food.

Or if it didn’t take more than four ingredients to make something good.  Grocery shopping is enough of a chore without having to hunt down things like bok choy or coriander. I don’t know what either of those looks like in real life. It took me a couple tries to spell coriander.

A couple weekends ago I made my roommate grill cheese and tomato soup. I burnt the tomato soup.

I confessed after we finished eating, hoping she wouldn’t notice if I didn’t point it out. “I was wondering why it tasted like bacon,” she said.

Tonight I made a pulled chicken sandwich with broccoli. I don’t know if that’s even something people make.

I might have over defrosted the hamburger bun. I doused my broccoli in parmesan cheese. I shook the barbecue sauce over the chicken like a kid with a bottle of  finger paint. By the time I mutilated the chicken with a fork, it was cold. I put it back on the stove, then flipped in onto the bun.

I almost burnt my tongue, which almost never happens thanks to a first-grade run in with a frosted electric pole.

All told, it took me about 12 minutes — roughly three minutes longer than my average dinner-preparation maximum.

Meh. I’m not sure those extra three minutes were worth it.

I turned to Glee, looking for a distraction.


3 thoughts on “cooking

    Sarah Mitchell said:
    June 7, 2011 at 11:29 am

    Ha ha! You made me laugh. Check out Jessica Seinfeld’s cooking blog. It’s for beginners and it’s super simple. It might help. 🙂 It’s

      alliwyman responded:
      June 7, 2011 at 10:50 pm

      hehe, thanks. i will check it out. 🙂

    Mom said:
    June 15, 2011 at 4:13 pm

    I canceled your Cooking Light… But still harbor hopes for you. We just have to find the perfect cooking style that fits.

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