A friend posted a link to a “Worst Cooking Contest” on my Facebook wall the other day. She heard about the contest and immediately thought of me. It was a legitimate thought. It doesn’t matter how hard I try, there are just some things that I can’t do—and they are always culinary in nature (on par with astrophysics, of course).
I remember my husband’s face when we first got married and I came home from the grocery store with cans upon cans of cream of chicken soup. Apparently, in some households, it’s not a staple. Can you imagine?
Well, cream soup has been a lifeline to me. Chicken pot pie, anyone? You just throw together some chicken, veggies, biscuit mix, and cream of chicken soup. Tuna pasta salad? Easy breezy. Tuna, pasta, and cream of chicken soup. Curried beef? Beef, curry powder, and cream of chicken soup. Oh, and I make a mean salmon pasta too. Salmon, dried dill, pasta, and … wait for it … cream of chicken soup. You name it, I can make it … using cream of chicken soup.
And whatever can’t be made with cream of chicken soup can most certainly be made using a trusty old can of tomato soup. My mother taught me well.
My husband may have been shocked when he first saw the rows and rows of soup cans lining our pantry, but I was equally as shocked when he made me pancakes for the first time and reached for the flour. Everyone knows that pancakes come out of a box! What a crazy coot!!!
My sister, who is familiar with my cooking follies, once roped me into taking cake decorating classes with her. We should have known better (especially in light of the “Intro to Floral Design” fiasco, which is another story for another day). While everyone else piped neat little flowers and squiggles, my cakes always looked like someone had smashed their face in them. Okay, so there may have been telltale traces of icing on my nose and eyebrows, but still… It was a four-week course and I ended up just skipping the last week and hitting up a local coffee shop instead.
Lately, even cans and boxes are giving me trouble. Last week was my daughter’s second birthday. I had visions of adorable cupcakes, so I bought a cake mix and some canned icing. You can’t go wrong with that, right? Wrong. The icing tasted horrible so I decided to grate chocolate over it. I popped the remaining chocolate in my mouth and immediately started gagging. Apparently my husband keeps unsweetened chocolate in the house. Who even heard of such a crazy thing? Everyone knows that chocolate is supposed to be loaded with sugar. Gross.
After frantically rinsing my mouth out in the sink, I decided to sweeten the cupcakes by sprinkling icing sugar over the chocolate. Not to be crass, but quite frankly, the cupcakes looked like someone had thrown up and then the throw up had contracted leprosy.
Even boxed macaroni and cheese has given me trouble lately. I burned it to a crisp by accident the other day. Thankfully, by adding a bottle of ketchup to my bowl, you couldn’t tell. Well, not too much, anyway.
You’ll all be proud of me though. Last night, I tried to cook something besides the peanut butter and banana sandwiches that are our usual fare when my husband works late. It took a really big, concentrated effort, but it paid off. I made pizza all by myself. Yep, I did. And the bits that I was able scrape off the pan tasted pretty darn good!
(By the way Honey, you, um, might want to add a new pizza pan to your birthday wish list.)