I love to cook. I watch cooking shows and contests religiously. I own every kind of kitchen utensil known to woman (or man). My dishes, both tableware, serving dishes, and platters give me pleasure. However, none of this translates into yummy food for my family and friends— well, at least, not always. With all those professional chefs I’ve been watching, I’ve learned nothing. It’s almost like I take more pride in my dishes than I do with the food I put on them.
For instance, you’d think putting five ingredients together in a cohesive, step-by-step spelled-out recipe would be like walking around the block. There are no road signs, barriers, complicated directions to that walk. Just follow your nose, right? Well, maybe.
But when you bring home the wrong type of ingredients, one most essential in the creation of the dish you’re preparing, the edible becomes inedible—quickly!
Thus was the case with my homemade mac and cheese dish. I was to contribute this to my monthly dinner club gathering to accompany the host’s whole roasted chicken by Martha Stewart. But disaster struck when a simple can of milk caused my beautiful, cheesy golden, bubbly casserole to end up in the garbage, unsuitable for consumption and certainly unworthy of Martha’s chicken!
The culprit, you ask? Condensed milk—sweetened condensed milk instead of the regular kind. What did I know? I am not a baker in even the broadest terms and never use this product. Sweet milk was added blindly to those lovely, plump noodles, cheesiest of cheeses with a golden crumbled topping. The result was, of course, disastrous!
With no time for correction, I tried to fool my friends with a substitute dish found in the freezer section of my grocery store. A family staple for decades, I knew it looked too perfect and tasted like something familiar. I confessed my charade to co-diners in hopes of clemency, and all was forgiven with a good laugh at my expense! At least it was edible.
This unfortunate concoction took me back to earlier days when my daughter was little and in that stage of eating only mac and cheese out of a box and maybe a carrot or two to round out the meal. This evening, she decided she wanted to finish adding the remaining ingredients to the noodles and take control of her dinner.
Looking away from her only briefly, she stopped stirring to look at me with guilty, saddened eyes. A shy “Oops” slipped out. She forgot to drain the water from the noodles before pouring in the cheese powder. Ugh! Orange water stared back at us with little cooked noodles floating on top looking confused. There was a long pause. We faced each other with blank expressions—then erupted in laughter at the result of a task gone awry. At least I knew enough then to have at least two or more boxes of her favorite meal on hand in the pantry, regular milk and no sweetened condensed milk to ruin a perfect kid dish. Shades of memories past came back for an encore. Bravo, Child!
And there have been other food catastrophes at the hands of my limited talents in the kitchen. You’d think a casserole would be a simple task of putting together five or less ingredients into a dish—kind of like a slow cooker dump dish. (We won’t go there…) No. Overcooked chicken, leaving out specific spices, too much salt or not enough, burnt cheese toppings, nearly black crusts, milk instead of cream, applying the steps backwards, (blame it on my dyslexia), casseroles leave me clutching my apron with frustration and dismay.
So, what do I serve my family and friends, you ask? Pasta! I follow the box directions to a “T,” stir in a few sauteed veggies and garlic, or add a good-quality store bought sauce, shave some fresh parmesan on top and voila! I also make a mean salad. And boy, do I bake pre-made bread like a pro!
Due to my dismal track record, I’ve declared my kitchen a casserole-free zone, dispelling any and all food crimes I’ve previously committed. Instead, I always have wine in the ‘frig, music playing, and a pantry full of pasta. Life is good.