If you know me at all, then you know that I’ve never cooked a moment in my life. I do not classify adding water to Cup O’ Noodles, sticking a Celeste pizza into the toaster oven, or scraping ravioli out of the Chef Boyardee can and popping the dish into the microwave as “cooking”. So when (finally!) Lothiriel and I moved out of the good comforts of living at home with each of our ‘rents and ma’s delicious cookin’, we didn’t think I had a chance in hell in the kitchen. I spent last Sunday cleaning our kitchen, and unpacking and washing all the pots, pans and utensils that we bought. I had no idea what this particular thingo was that I had in my hand – turns out, it’s a garlic press. And now that I know what it is, why the hell doesn’t my mom use one? I still don’t know why I have so many different knives of all different shapes and sizes, but I can figure that out later.
The time I spent in my kitchen on Sunday was probably more time than what I’d spent in the kitchen in my over 2 decades of life. Yet somehow, I have this overwhelming urge to cook and make food and all kinds of crazy stuff – so voila, the inner chef inside of me has emerged!
And it was almost as yummy as it looks. I let the noodles cook for too long though, and they started disintegrating into skinny noodles (they were supposed to be the long flat kind…they originally started that way), so that was a total bust. But everything else went really well. So yay me! Now you know that when you come to visit us, you won’t starve to death or be forced to live on McDonald’s food.
