(no subject)
Juliet really shouldn’t cook. Ever. She remembers Home Ec disasters in high school, catching an oven mitt on fire once, Chinese take-out leftovers in the microwave - with the metal handle on the carton. All of this to the bemusement of her family who watched her become a doctor and fertility research specialist. She has no clue where the disconnect comes in. It’s not lack of patience; she has to have the utmost of patience for her job. And she can follow directions. When Rachel was sick, Juliet tried to make her homemade chicken noodle soup once, but it turned out so salty that they threw the whole pot out and ordered some from Far East Café.
It’s all of those past cooking errors that have Juliet worried as she stands in the compound kitchen now, staring at one of the cookbooks she’d received. She has all of the cookware too - someone is trying to give her a hint, and since she has nothing better to do on a Thursday afternoon, she figures what the hell. She’ll try to cook something. Baked macaroni and cheese doesn’t sound too hard at first glance, but then she starts looking over the ingredients and realizes there’s more than she thought. Tomato sauce? What the hell does she need tomato sauce for? And then she sees the parentheses that are under the ‘Baked Macaroni and Cheese’ heading: (with a blend of vegetables and cheeses).
Good God. There’s not a lot of cheese, let alone a ‘blend’, no mushrooms that the recipe calls for, and the pasta isn’t elbow macaroni, so she scraps the whole idea. Sighing heavily, she starts going through her cookbook again. It’s not quite time for whoever prepares the dinner meal to show up yet, so she figures if she can find something easy enough, she should be able to whip something up. Possibly. Without burning anything down.
(S/T always welcome. Juliet has the Better Homes and Gardens red and white cover cook book if anyone wants to toss her a recipe.)
It’s all of those past cooking errors that have Juliet worried as she stands in the compound kitchen now, staring at one of the cookbooks she’d received. She has all of the cookware too - someone is trying to give her a hint, and since she has nothing better to do on a Thursday afternoon, she figures what the hell. She’ll try to cook something. Baked macaroni and cheese doesn’t sound too hard at first glance, but then she starts looking over the ingredients and realizes there’s more than she thought. Tomato sauce? What the hell does she need tomato sauce for? And then she sees the parentheses that are under the ‘Baked Macaroni and Cheese’ heading: (with a blend of vegetables and cheeses).
Good God. There’s not a lot of cheese, let alone a ‘blend’, no mushrooms that the recipe calls for, and the pasta isn’t elbow macaroni, so she scraps the whole idea. Sighing heavily, she starts going through her cookbook again. It’s not quite time for whoever prepares the dinner meal to show up yet, so she figures if she can find something easy enough, she should be able to whip something up. Possibly. Without burning anything down.
(S/T always welcome. Juliet has the Better Homes and Gardens red and white cover cook book if anyone wants to toss her a recipe.)