Noble Cow Sentinel, Bravely Watching Over Us All

Pin It The big news around here apparently has nothing to do with the NieNie book. It's the cow header. I've gotten at least fifteen emails about it, all, "SUE. WE MUST TALK ABOUT THE COW."

Poor cow. She's just doing her job, guarding the top of the blog for a couple of days while I fix up the old blogstead. (I'm working with a blog designer now, you know. I'm FANCY.)

But I do not want to talk about the cow. I want to talk about myself. (SURPRISING)

Tonight I was watching my DVRd Top Chef. I really shouldn't be allowed to watch that show, because it makes me think I can cook. I get all inspired to step away from the pasta - to shake things up a little and try something new.

Yeah. This is never a good idea.

(I occasionally get out my Betty Crocker red plaid cookbook and try to find an interesting new recipe, but half of them use words I don't understand like "seed" and "cumin" and "poach." Which all sound vaguely pornographic, if you ask me. Bow- chika-bow-wow.)

Anyway, I pulled out the cookbook and found something it said would take only 35 minutes to bake. Unfortunately, I interpreted this as - it would only take 35 minutes to MAKE. Basically it was a casserole with chicken and noodles and sauce and bread crumbs and assorted things. (Yes, it WAS as gross as it sounds, thank you for asking.)

It took more than 35 minutes. Much more. It probably would've taken less time if I would've just stopped and read the recipe and thought about it for three consecutive seconds.

Instead I ran around like a frightened monkey, "Boil a chicken! Boil a chicken!" I had no idea how long I should boil a chicken for, so I fried it instead. Then I made the sauce. Then I realized I was supposed to cook the noodles first so I put the sauce away and made the noodles. Then I took the sauce back out and finished making it. Then I realized I had the wrong kind of bread crumbs. Then, then, then, then.

By the time it was finished, my children were committing acts of violence against the refrigerator. (They don't really like it when I cook.)

I have a blogging friend who says it frustrates her when people say they can't cook, because really, how hard is it to just FOLLOW THE DIRECTIONS?!

I'm here to say it's VERY VERY HARD.

THE END.

Custard, GOOOOOOD.

Pin It Me: "Hey hon, are you gonna be here soon? 'Cuz I made dinner."

Husband: "Cool, what are we having?"

Me: "I made something new. It's called Hamburger Roll-Ups."

Husband: "Hamburger Roll-ups."

Me: "Yeah - my mom used to make them."

(long silence)

Me: "They're GOOD, I promise."

Husband: "What are they exactly?"

Me: "Well, you make this meat mixture and you make this dough from bisquick and you roll it up like a jelly roll and you slice it and bake it. And there's sauce."

Husband: "Hmmmm."

Me: "I PROMISE it's good."

Husband: "Why does this sound like an episode of Friends?"

Me: "It's not a beef trifle."

Husband: "You know, if you want, I can take over the cooking again. I can just whip something up really quick every night after I get home."

Me: "I'm perfectly capable of making --"

Husband: "Or I could make it the night before and freeze it. All you'd have to do is warm it up."

Me: "Hamburger Rollups were good enough for me and my brothers and sisters and I think they're probably --"

Husband: "Or, wait, I KNOW, we could starve. Sometimes starving is good. This could be like the first part of the fasting thing you were talking about."

Me: "I'm hanging up now."