Tuesday, July 30, 2013

What cooking god did I anger?

It's been months since I cooked a large, home cooked meal for my family.

It's not that we've been eating out more; we haven't. I was just gone most of April and then again at the end of June/Beginning of July. When I was home, it was hot and I was tired. We ate a lot of simple foods or grilled outside. Hot dogs, hamburgers, Pizza, homemade roasted potatoes, corn and pasta were stapled.

Monday was cold and rainy so I decided to get my groove back on and cook again. Joseph made cookies and I made bread in the slow cooker. The little dudes and their friend played with flour in the house and then ran around outside in the misting rain. It was a perfect fall I mean, unseasonably cold July day . . . and I found myself wanting to cook dinner.

After I dropped Camille off at TKD, I grabbed the pasta pot, filled it and set it on the stove. Cole dragged his chair over to the island and began to help me with the chicken. It was soothing to grab out the spices and breadcrumbs, mix a little of this and a little of that to make a healthy, wholesome dinner for everyone.

The chicken was super thick, so I place it in bags to pound out. Cole and I hammered away happily. When it was thin enough, I turned the bag to open it... and slimey, juicy raw chicken slid out, slithered off the island and down the front of my shirt and yoga pants. Ew.

I managed to grab it before it hit the floor, threw it in the flour and finished making the chicken.

Our broccoli plants had produced and nothing goes better with pasta and parmesan chicken than roasted broccoli! I put it in a pan, drizzled olive oil over it and when to the cupboard to get the salt. I reached up . . . and a giant glass bottle of rice wine vinegar shattered all over the counter.

At that very  moment, Cole dumped the entire box of raw pasta on the floor and Adam walked in.

I stalked out of the kitchen as Adam cleaned up the glass, got Cole out of the way and then took the boys off to get Cami and drop Joseph off. As soon as they were gone, I took out the trash, swept the floor and threw away the raw pasta. I dumped a new box into the now boiling water and began to put the spices and breadcrumbs away.

That's when half the jar of breadcrumbs jumped out of my hands and dumped onto the floor.

The good news? I didn't dump scalding pasta water on my stomach. (Yet, as a cousin reminded me, YET.) Dinner was pretty tasty. But now I am scared away from cooking for awhile.

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