When I was a kid, mom would do her best to get me helping in the kitchen. I know it’s hard to believe (haha), but I was quite an obstinate child when it came to cooking. I’ve never liked it much, as I have quite a knack for messing things up.
When I was about 13, dad told me that if I cooked one meal of his choice, and everything turned out well, then I’d never have to help mom in the kitchen again. Really? That was it?! Well then, bring it on! And bring it on he did. His request seemed simple enough: mashed potatoes, green beans and fried chicken. Easy as pie! (Although, I’m not sure I had ever baked a pie…)
That night, everyone assembled around the table, and I was proud of my hard work. The mashed potatoes were smooth and creamy, the green beans were wonderful in a green-beany sort of way, and the fried chicken smelled fantastic. Smelled fantastic. Dad was the first to take a bite, and from the look of his face I knew it wasn’t good. Dad gingerly pointed out that the chicken was crispy and golden on the outside, but a chilly, pale pink on the inside. And so, my dreams of never stepping foot in our kitchen were dashed. I don’t think I’ve ever quite gotten over the disappointment of that dinner.
Recently, however, I’ve actually been cooking and baking quite a bit (at least by my standards). My creations this week have included Banana Muffins, Panino Alla Margherita (Italian BLT), basic Ziti, and Ziti with Asperagus, Smoked Mozerella, and Prosciutto. I’m patting myself on the back as I write this.
But tonight was the best of all: Molten Chocolate Lava Cake. Oh. My. Goodness! My only regret was that I had to throw away 1/2 the batter, as there’s no way we could’ve eaten any more. I decided to take pictures to prove my story, as I’m sure mom and dad are skeptical as they’re reading this.
Mikey liked it!
Leftover batter. I cried as I poured it down the drain…