Sunday, September 26, 2004

Cooking II

Cooking II
And now, the rest of the story. So last night, after I had let out all my frustrations with my incapacity for culinary prowess, I decided to just make some ramen. It was my roommate's ramen, but I figured I could just float him a dime, and I wouldn't have to hear any complaints. The time was about 4:30 a.m. I was sitting there, proudly boiling that biscuit of noodles, gladly straining the water from them with an old plate (since the strainer was filled with cinnamon and sugar dust), and blithely mixing in the seasoning packet. I took the first happy bite, but to my dismay, something was wrong. The flavor was terrible. It was very strong, and there were hard, crunchy spices in it. When I walked over to the counter, I discovered my mistake: I had put the seasoning packet for the entire box of Rice-a-Roni into my little pathetic bowl of ramen. I forced myself to eat it anyway out of sheer starvation. I later calculated that I had eaten 2,220 mg of sodium. It was awful. I barfed in my mouth a bit as I was climbing into bed during the early minutes of dawn. I ran to throw up outside, and I slipped in the slime from the buttery mess on the floor. After I finished that, I meekly climbed the stairs to my room. Even over the sound of my roommate singing showtunes in the shower, I finally fell asleep, with an empty feeling in my stomach, and one in my gut. I had ruined even ramen. I had failed.

Friday, September 24, 2004


I have these four roommates who are all domestic. They grow their own herbs to make pesto, they sit there with their special little appliances and cook elaborate dinners for one. Last night it was split pea soup from scratch. Now, I understand it probably tastes better than Campbell's, but I can't at all imagine that it's so much better that it's worth the effort.

So tonight, at 3:30 a.m., I decided to try to cook some Rice-a-Roni. I freak out whenever I have to follow directions, so I was already in a bad way. I poured the rice vermicelli mix into the stupid medium-sized sauce pan, as i was supposed to. I took the butter out of the fridge, but I dropped about two tablespoons of it onto the floor when I was cutting it. I turned the stove onto medium and began to brown the little worms. Then I realized that I was going to need some water measured out, and due to my cognizance of my Non-verbal Learning Disorder, I began to panic. You see, I have no idea how big two and a half cups is. I grabbed a bowl from the cupboard and filled it, but I couldn't tell at all if I was even close. So then I went frantically looking for a measuring cup. I found a little graduated pitcher thing, but it was full of cinnamon and sugar. Then I decided to pour the cinnamon and sugar into a nearby bowl. Unfortunately, the bowl was some kind of small sieve, and my roommate's sugar mix dumped all over the floor and stuck to the butter. By the time I got the pitcher cleaned out, I turned around and the rice was ON FIRE. Luckily, I had recently broken the smoke alarm, so my roommates didn't have to wake up. I just grabbed the pan and stuck it outside on the porch. The house reeks of burned butter and noodles. That was my last box of food. Now I must resort to either going to bed hungry, or going to the grocery store. I'll probably do the latter. At least i can pick up that pan on my way back in.

The question is why am I so incompetent when it comes to cooking? It is impossible for me. I have ruined over twenty boxes of rice-a-Roni in my lifetime. Gosh! I hate it! So uneconomical. And there's Jayson, totally cooking soup in three separate pans. Of all my shortcomings, this is the one that renders me the most helpless. I have no idea where to turn for help.