Seeing that I am, always have been, and always will be a Tragically Challenged Cook, you'd think I'd stick to the basics like; PB&J, hot dogs, and mac 'n cheese. But no, that's not my style. I'm not happy unless I'm constantly flirting with disaster.
Being the ever-optimistic, hopelessly-addicted-to-new-tastes kind of human being, I'm always searching for something innovative. This time I decided to try Chicken Pad Thai. Come on; it has chicken and broccoli and noodles - what could go wrong? Let me tell you. If there were such a thing as the first-degree assault of the olfactory senses, I'd be tinkling in jail today.
Everything was going pretty well until I added the fish sauce to the recipe. Then, when it splashed into the hot pan, it took on a life of its own. The smell spread throughout the house like a fire in a rickety wooden barn. I could almost see the putrid aroma roll across the ceiling, creep down the walls, and cover me like the greasy locks atop Danny Zuko's head.
When my family sat down at the dinner table, they began to twitch as they got closer to their plates. They carefully tasted the fare, desperate not to offend me (or incite one of my "I can't cook!" riots).
In a bizarre turn of events, the flavor was almost good.
Unfortunately, we had to plug our noses to transport the food into our mouths. That made for a challenging meal since we wanted to, like, BREATHE while eating.
In an attempt to preserve my family's survival, the dinner was dumped down the garbage disposal, which ironically chose to grind to a halting stop at that very moment (I'm still suspicious that even the sink couldn't handle the concoction). So we had to transfer the remaining offensive gunk to the garbage in the garage.
Does anyone know how to eliminate a "dead octopus with a skunk in its stomach" smell from a garage? I sure hope we don't have to move.
Is it just me, or does anyone else have bad luck in the kitchen? PLEASE! I'm begging you to let me know I'm not alone!
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This is a Lyssa-Level offense! I love it! Thank you for sharing!
One sunny day, long long ago, I was being taught how to cook pancakes in my home economics class. I was following the teacher's directions perfectly (or so I thought). I placed the pan on the burner and cranked the heat up so the butter would melt. Sounds innocent, right? As a very new cook in the kitchen, I had no idea what a "burning point" was nor did I understand that butter's burning point is seemingly low. It felt like two seconds before the smoke was billowing through the class. I yanked the butter from the stove a little too late. My heart was pounding and the entire class was looking for the culprit who ruined our pancake breakfast.…