Chicken soup for the tummy
Kevin made chicken noodle soup last night. I repeat, he made it. He grilled the chicken, seasoned up the chicken stock, chopped the vegetables, threw in the egg noodles, and it was delicious.
I have to say, he's a better cook than I am. This hurts my pride a bit, I must admit. I can bake a mean cookie, though. However, the oven in our apartment doesn't work. I should think about getting that fixed. We've lived here since October, and no banana bread, orange cookies, carrot muffins, or blueberry scones have been whipped up in my kitchen. My cookie sheets are sitting sad and unused inside the cabinet. I try to forget they're there, but their forlorn, non-stick surfaces every so often incite in me a little pang of guilt. I'm sorry, cookie sheets and muffin tins! I don't mean to forsake you! I'm just too lazy to call my fucking landlord!
I have to say, he's a better cook than I am. This hurts my pride a bit, I must admit. I can bake a mean cookie, though. However, the oven in our apartment doesn't work. I should think about getting that fixed. We've lived here since October, and no banana bread, orange cookies, carrot muffins, or blueberry scones have been whipped up in my kitchen. My cookie sheets are sitting sad and unused inside the cabinet. I try to forget they're there, but their forlorn, non-stick surfaces every so often incite in me a little pang of guilt. I'm sorry, cookie sheets and muffin tins! I don't mean to forsake you! I'm just too lazy to call my fucking landlord!