Tuesday, November 11, 2014

NaBloPoMo Day Eleven: Cooking. NO!

I can cook. Honestly, I can.
Do I like to?
But when I do, its usually always something wonderful and everyone loves it.

I experiment. That can be dangerous ground. Its okay though, my smoke detector lets me know when I've done something wrong.

My kid seems to have ignored all the lessons I tried to instill in her while raising her up. She knows how to make eggs for breakfast and is super good at making Ramen and frozen pizza. ~head desks~

Maybe its because I traumatize her as a child.

Really, I tried to make growing up with me fun. Example: Was making boneless skinless chicken tenders on the electric grill, little daughter, maybe 7 at the time, looks over raw meat and asks 'what's that?'. Me, being me...responds with 'its sea slugs. You eat them all the time, with the honey mustard. Dinner will be ready soon.'. Child just sort of blinks at me, looks at raw chicken again then toodles off. DINNER TIME: places plate in front of her, sits down with my own and starts eating. Notices she is staring at her plate. 'Eat...come on, its nothing new...' Child looks to me, looks to plate, gives a shrug and starts eating. Of course, I laugh my ass off, then tell her the truth of things. No, its isn't sea slugs, its just chicken. Boneless, skinless chicken tenders, made from chicken breasts and grilled. If I were to feed her sea slugs, I'd have added sushi and seaweed salad to the plate.

I would do this to anyone's child. Yes, I do love doing such things to the young and naive.

Baking is something I do extremely well. Believe it or not, I was once a cake decorator. I have mad skillz when it comes to cake decorating. I chalk it up to 1. being left handed and 2. I am abound with creativity. Oh, and then there is just plain natural skill. I fell right into cake decorating. I made a good living at it.
But alas, carpal tunnel in the wrists, hands and arms did that profession in. It got so bad, that I couldn't grip the bags well enough to creative my lovely designs and make my flowers.

In the kitchen, the place I hate to go, I am pretty handy though. I have my specialties. The good old fall backs when I don't feel like putting too much effort into the meal, or just feel lazy, but everyone wants something 'home cooked'. And I'm a southern gal, so yeah...fry, fry, fry. Okra, cabbage, corn, oh my.

I much prefer going out to eat (lets someone else cook, serve and clean up) or when someone else in the house cooks. Though, the general rule of the house is whoever cooks doesn't have to clean up.
UNLESS YOUR ME! ~plots the doom of all housemates~

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