Today is the grand day when I, for the first time in my memory, cooked a dish which was marginally edible. I hate cooking, but I love eating and since I grew tired of cold buffet meals, I was reduced to attempt the wooden spoon. Typically, I produce versions of tasteless pasta, hard rice, overcooked vegetables and burnt meat. I’m hysterical about undercooking food, except rice, because no self-respecting food should take more than fifteen minutes to prepare.
I made wild rice and roasted pork cubes today. The rice improved a lot by having been boiled for twenty-five minutes, as suggested in the instructions on the box. I set my computer timer to measure the allotted time and went blogging. While multitasking, I also put the meat on the pan, seasoned it with a pinch of all spices I have (I never have more than three kinds at a time) and stirred occasionally. (See what I’m doing here? I’m blogging a recipe!!) Unlike my usual, this time I didn’t wait for the meat to get black (at least not most of it), which radically enhanced its eatability.
The result was pleasantly shocking. I almost enjoyed the meal, though I fiercely hated cooking it. I won’t provide visual proof of my lunch because I’m the weird kind of person who eats her meals rather than taking pictures of it. Instead, see above for creepy wooden spoons. The scary effect is intentional. That’s how I feel about cooking.