If you know me, you know I don't normally cook. For most of my life I considered putting a carton of Easy Mac in the microwave to be cooking. In fact, I've burned Easy Mac. So imagine the first time I made chicken parm. Are you seeing pools of blood? Perhaps sirens are blaring in the background of your mind as you imagine this great tragedy. These were my thoughts. I was scared shitless as I made dinner for my boyfriend's birthday. I was going nuts in my adorable black French Connection dress and lingerie. My phone wouldn't stop ringing for the first time in my life and things were smoking...ahh. Except dinner was amazing. My effort paid off and it was the perfect night.
The same can not be said for the second time I made chicken parm for Ron. Of course, this time I cooked in his apartment. Let me preface the rest of the story with some background information. Ron's roommate just moved from their NJ apartment to Chicago for law school. As roommates, they accumulated general necessities together. Unfortunately, TJ had the bare necessities of a kitcken. Things such as silverware, plates, pots and pans were nowhere to be found. I forgot things I needed at my apartment. We forgot to get sauce at the A&P and had to go to the ghetto Pathmark to get it.
ANYWAY...we get back to Ron's apartment and I start cooking. And everything. Goes. Wrong. I start making the chicken and things seem to be going okay even though I'm using paper plates to bread the chicken and egg is everywhere and sigh. To spare you boredom over the little details, I'll give you the fast forward version. In addition to cutting myself with a REALLY BIG KNIFE, I accidently dumped a whole shaker of red hot chili pepper in my dad's signature sauce. I scooped as much of it out as I could and since we had a lot of sauce, I figured it would be okay. I finished cooking and made the pasta (which I should have used a bigger pot for so it didn't really cook and it all stuck together, ew) and served everything.
Now. I like spicy food. Ron likes spicy food. I put hot sauce on everything. I don't even like to eat eggs without hot sauce. So when I tell you this sauce would FUCK UP YOUR DAY...I am not kidding. It was near impossible to even ingest this meal. After an hour of cooking, a decent amount of time spent at the supermarket and gathering materials, and MUCH time spent salivating over impending chicken parm...it sucked. :-(
Of course, Ron is too much of a sweetheart to say so, but I can confidently tell you this meal was awful.
And this is why I don't cook.
The same can not be said for the second time I made chicken parm for Ron. Of course, this time I cooked in his apartment. Let me preface the rest of the story with some background information. Ron's roommate just moved from their NJ apartment to Chicago for law school. As roommates, they accumulated general necessities together. Unfortunately, TJ had the bare necessities of a kitcken. Things such as silverware, plates, pots and pans were nowhere to be found. I forgot things I needed at my apartment. We forgot to get sauce at the A&P and had to go to the ghetto Pathmark to get it.
ANYWAY...we get back to Ron's apartment and I start cooking. And everything. Goes. Wrong. I start making the chicken and things seem to be going okay even though I'm using paper plates to bread the chicken and egg is everywhere and sigh. To spare you boredom over the little details, I'll give you the fast forward version. In addition to cutting myself with a REALLY BIG KNIFE, I accidently dumped a whole shaker of red hot chili pepper in my dad's signature sauce. I scooped as much of it out as I could and since we had a lot of sauce, I figured it would be okay. I finished cooking and made the pasta (which I should have used a bigger pot for so it didn't really cook and it all stuck together, ew) and served everything.
Now. I like spicy food. Ron likes spicy food. I put hot sauce on everything. I don't even like to eat eggs without hot sauce. So when I tell you this sauce would FUCK UP YOUR DAY...I am not kidding. It was near impossible to even ingest this meal. After an hour of cooking, a decent amount of time spent at the supermarket and gathering materials, and MUCH time spent salivating over impending chicken parm...it sucked. :-(
Of course, Ron is too much of a sweetheart to say so, but I can confidently tell you this meal was awful.
And this is why I don't cook.
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