I mean, I'm not all into it like some of my friends, who make Trout Almondine with Currant Lime Sauce every night, but I don't really mind it. I mind even less if I get to
Here are two reasons from last week alone, that they might fear the kitchen.
Exhibit A - The Hockey Pucks.
No, they are not really hockey pucks, no they didn't turn out the way I envisioned them, and yes we ate them anyway and they were delicious.
They are actually tortillas which I was trying to shape into salad bowls and bake in the oven. And it totally worked for the first 10 minutes or so... After which they sort of flattened out and turned into misshapen - - - well, I'm calling them tortilla plates, and everyone else is still calling them "those burned hockey pucks that mom made us eat". Whatever.
Exhibit B - "Baked Rats"
Buddy and Lizzie are such over reactors- aren't they. I mean, anyone can clearly see that these are OBVIOUSLY chili rellenos that were baked in the oven rather than fried in oil.
And they look perfectly delicious, right?
Me? I'm just having a salad tonight. You guys go ahead.
I figure they're either going to end up being wonderfully creative chefs, or in therapy for food issues for the rest of their lives. It's probably a 50/50 shot.