In which I explain my cooking prowess
Once upon a time I decided I should cook something in the kitchen. It has generally been regarded as a bad idea and many wish it had never happened.
It is a well documented fact in my family that my cooking skills leave much to be desired. Anybody who is anybody knows that we will all be much happier if I am left alone to eat food others prepared, then clean up, rather than help prepare and then eat.
That said, on Sunday last Boy Who Smiles took it upon himself to teach me how to make a casserole wherein I just throw in whatever my heart desires.
(And by "teach me how," I do mean "leave me alone in the kitchen stupidly believing I won't blow things up because he is innocent and naive and generally thinks much higher of me than he probably should, bless his heart.")
Chopping the vegetables was very doable, especially since I was completely alone in the house when I did it, meaning no one could tell me I wasn't making the bits big enough (I like my vegetables tiny, all right? I hate biting into something and getting a giant, crunchy onion slice! Yuck!) Boy Who Smiles made the sauce, and all was happy dandy, right up until Tori, our good friend, informed me that Boy Who Smiles never tastes his food.
Yeah, yeah, after all this time with him, you'd think I'd know that, but I didn't. So I took it upon myself to sample the sauce myself and make sure it was edible. Good thing I did, too, because the sauce needed more salt! I dutifully took his salt container (not shaker, container; you know, those big ones you buy at the store?) and tipped it in...
...and discovered it had no spout.
Meaning I dumped in WAY more salt than necessary.
Whoops.
Being the ever wonderful friend that I am, I stirred the salt in quick like a bunny, knowing he'd be none the wiser since he never tastes his food. I figured once we poured the sauce over the rest of the casserole, the saltiness would be somewhat diluted by the vegetables and meat. And if it wasn't, I figured I'd just blame it on the fact that he didn't taste his sauce. I'm nefarious like that.
That was Sunday. On Monday, Boy Who Smiles served the casserole to Jillian and I. I queried after the taste, and Boy Who Smiles said, and I quote, "Whatever you did to the sauce, it tastes fantastic!"
I had a really hard time containing my laughter. So hard, in fact, that I didn't.
I also didn't tell him about the salt incident. I did, however, tell Jillian about it when he left the room. She laughed and assured me it tasted delicious.
The next day, or Wednesday... or maybe even Thursday.... Whichever day it was, while once again eating casserole, I finally fessed up to my salt fiasco. Boy Who Smiles dutifully laughed, then asked me if I knew who had lost the spout?
"Nick?" asked I. "Tori? Jillian? Rich? Travis?"
He looked at me, cocked his head to the side, and said, "Actually, I'm pretty sure it was you."
...
. . .
. . . .
. . .
...
Yeah, I'm pretty sure he's right. I have this vague, hazy, barely-formed memory of me losing it... Which just goes to show that I shouldn't ever be allowed in the kitchen!
Here's my least favourite part of the story: At Tori's graduation party, I told Jillian that I'd told Boy Who Smiles what happened to the sauce. The look on her face told me he already knew because she told him. SO. Not only did she spill the beans, HE didn't have the decency to tell me he already knew when I told him!
What great friends I have. -___- But it's all okay, because I hit him with a pillow. Twice. It made me feel marginally better.
Moral of the story: I'm staying out of the kitchen forever.
"Cut it out! He's just an idiot!" ~~Kyo
It is a well documented fact in my family that my cooking skills leave much to be desired. Anybody who is anybody knows that we will all be much happier if I am left alone to eat food others prepared, then clean up, rather than help prepare and then eat.
That said, on Sunday last Boy Who Smiles took it upon himself to teach me how to make a casserole wherein I just throw in whatever my heart desires.
(And by "teach me how," I do mean "leave me alone in the kitchen stupidly believing I won't blow things up because he is innocent and naive and generally thinks much higher of me than he probably should, bless his heart.")
Chopping the vegetables was very doable, especially since I was completely alone in the house when I did it, meaning no one could tell me I wasn't making the bits big enough (I like my vegetables tiny, all right? I hate biting into something and getting a giant, crunchy onion slice! Yuck!) Boy Who Smiles made the sauce, and all was happy dandy, right up until Tori, our good friend, informed me that Boy Who Smiles never tastes his food.
Yeah, yeah, after all this time with him, you'd think I'd know that, but I didn't. So I took it upon myself to sample the sauce myself and make sure it was edible. Good thing I did, too, because the sauce needed more salt! I dutifully took his salt container (not shaker, container; you know, those big ones you buy at the store?) and tipped it in...
...and discovered it had no spout.
Meaning I dumped in WAY more salt than necessary.
Whoops.
Being the ever wonderful friend that I am, I stirred the salt in quick like a bunny, knowing he'd be none the wiser since he never tastes his food. I figured once we poured the sauce over the rest of the casserole, the saltiness would be somewhat diluted by the vegetables and meat. And if it wasn't, I figured I'd just blame it on the fact that he didn't taste his sauce. I'm nefarious like that.
That was Sunday. On Monday, Boy Who Smiles served the casserole to Jillian and I. I queried after the taste, and Boy Who Smiles said, and I quote, "Whatever you did to the sauce, it tastes fantastic!"
I had a really hard time containing my laughter. So hard, in fact, that I didn't.
I also didn't tell him about the salt incident. I did, however, tell Jillian about it when he left the room. She laughed and assured me it tasted delicious.
The next day, or Wednesday... or maybe even Thursday.... Whichever day it was, while once again eating casserole, I finally fessed up to my salt fiasco. Boy Who Smiles dutifully laughed, then asked me if I knew who had lost the spout?
"Nick?" asked I. "Tori? Jillian? Rich? Travis?"
He looked at me, cocked his head to the side, and said, "Actually, I'm pretty sure it was you."
...
. . .
. . . .
. . .
...
Yeah, I'm pretty sure he's right. I have this vague, hazy, barely-formed memory of me losing it... Which just goes to show that I shouldn't ever be allowed in the kitchen!
Here's my least favourite part of the story: At Tori's graduation party, I told Jillian that I'd told Boy Who Smiles what happened to the sauce. The look on her face told me he already knew because she told him. SO. Not only did she spill the beans, HE didn't have the decency to tell me he already knew when I told him!
What great friends I have. -___- But it's all okay, because I hit him with a pillow. Twice. It made me feel marginally better.
Moral of the story: I'm staying out of the kitchen forever.
"Cut it out! He's just an idiot!" ~~Kyo