Life as a grown-up: cooking skills

Last night, I had supper at my coworker (of props fame) and his girlfriend’s new fab condo. It was a delicious and grown-up affair: appetizers, wine and homemade salmon tartare. Le yummy!!!

In the midst of this laid-back evening, my coworker’s girlfriend mentioned, quite harmlessly, that we could make a habit of this, and alternate hosting suppers and try new recipes on each other. She was sure that I would come up with something interesting. And I agreed, yes, “interesting” could be an adequate term to describe my cooking skills.

That time with the bagel and the microwave

I did not tell my coworker’s girlfriend the following story, because I didn’t her to worry that I would accidentally burn down their new home. But in this completely anonymous forum, I feel safe baring my soul to the blogosphere.

Several years ago, I decided one day to have a quick snack. A bagel. Feeling lazy, I stole one of my roommate’s frozen bagels, rather than go buy myself some fresh bagels – I’d make it up to him later.

Now, I’d like to highlight that at that moment in time, I’d been surviving as an independent adult for 3 years. I had used a microwave frequently, possibly almost daily. While I knew my cooking skills to be limited, I believed in my ability to fend for myself with out either endangering myself or giving myself scurvy or food poisoning.

And so, that day, I confidently sought to defrost my frozen bagel by microwaving it. I believed that action to fall within my skill set. (Speaking of cooking skill sets, this blogger pretty much sums it up perfectly.)

Well… I learned that microwaving a frozen bagel at full power for FOUR MINUTES will cause it to explode. Additionally, the quantity of dark black smoke that can be contained in a small microwave is more than enough to fill 2 bedroom apartment as well as the apartment building’s hallway, and set off the shrill fire alarm. And it is very difficult, under those circumstances, to turn off the fire alarm, given the quantity of smoke floating about. The neighbors loved me.

When my roommate came home 2 hours later, I was still frantically cleaning the newly blackened microwave.

After two weeks, we threw that microwave away, being fed up of having a nice touch of je-ne-sais-quoi-le-burnt in all of our food.

But! It’s ok. I made it up to him by buying him a whole bag of fresh bagels. #generosity

Disclaimer

Since then I have not killed, injured or harmed any person or appliance with my cooking. And so, yes, I will gladly host my brave coworker and his girlfriend for an “interesting” supper. And probably blog about it. À suivre…

 

 

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