Ugh. Cooking...

I am taking a journey, a learning journey. It's like exploring in a new place, but that new place is an area of the house familiar to many but not me: It's the kitchen. 

Learning to cook is, well, a process.

I've had some disasters in my past: e.g. the turkey meatloaf cooked to 160 degrees Celsius.

But then today (seriously, just now) there was another meatloaf. On Brad's first bite, his nose turned up and in a disgusted voice he said, "Umm...what did you put in this?" I may have poured in a little too lot Kosher salt. It came out of the container very fast. I blame the container. 

I thought I was in over my head. Now I know I am. A few days ago, I recruited a teacher. 

I asked my teacher to write up a few words about my skills. I don't have skills, so this is what he wrote:

The empty canvas.

Raw. New. A dry sponge. A babe in the woods. Gripping the knife red hands white knuckles tight as can be. Fear in her eyes.

I said "We are going to dice an onion." She said, " Okay, that's great! How do we do that?"

A neophyte. Open eyes. Questioned. Listened. Remembered. A student of the art.
Welcome to the club. We don't have cookies...we have wine.

Amen for the wine. I drank a fair amount and didn't even cut off any fingers as I learned to chop, dice, and mince.

Chicken and rice was the dish of the night. 

The chicken was good. It was flavorful and moist. I seasoned it with salt and papper and massaged lemon juice into the meat. But the rice...

My God. It's made with chicken bouillon and diced onions and diced garlic. The flavors pack this punch that forces a smile the second it hits your tastebuds.  

This dish is unusual. The side takes the cake. It's the thing you go up for for seconds, thirds, even fourths.


I mean it's cool. I'm no Paula Deen or Bobby Flay, but if I can make food that doesn't suck on a consistent basis, I think Brad will like me better.