Tuesday, December 2, 2008

Why I Burned The French Toast And Why The Chicken Piccata Tastes Like Gasoline

Once there was a girl. Her name rhymed with pee. She liked to cook. Alot. But her parents talked her out of going to culinary school (Liberal Arts Education or Bust!). They also talked her out of going to Montana State University, thank goodness- but that's another story. So she went to law school. But sitting in front of her laptop in Business Entities, she missed her apron. And her rolling pin. And the crazy measuring cups with the numbers rubbed off (Is this the 1/3 cup measurer? We'll say it is).

Her love affair with the kitchen continued in her spare time (i.e. when she was supposed to be reading casebooks). Cee made spicey pumpkin breads and to-die-for tamarind chicken. She whipped up delicious blackberry cobblers and pan roasted exotic moroccan steaks. Cee was in heaven. She was having fun. So MUCH fun, in fact, that Cee felt she must be doing something a little bit naughty (the Catholic in her).

One day Cee got pregnant. She decided to take a semester off of law school to cook all day take care of her baby. She laid awake each night dreaming of the creations she would make in the kitchen.

Then Cee actually had her baby. And she found that she was suddenly missing one hand. Where did it go? It was constantly tucked under the smellier side of That Baby. That Crying Insomniac Baby. But Cee didn't let That Baby get in the way of her Kitchen Lust. Cee continued to chop onions and measure spices and peel potatoes and mix cookie dough with her one free hand.

Cooking with one hand is very hard and can even interfer with one's motor skills. And sometimes, having a baby over your shoulder can impair your vision. That is why Cee often had to explain to The Husband why gooey chocolate chips, minced garlic or marinated capers found their way onto That Baby's head and inside That Baby's clothing. That is also why Cee's culinary creations are now sometimes left untouched by her dinner guests. (NOTE: Husband is not so lucky. He must eat the food on the table or STARVE. So what if he gets indigestion. It's called a "Marital Hazard").

4 comments:

CM said...

Tastes like... gasoline?
What are you doing to that baby?

LEO said...

I don't have anything to say, I'm just laughing from reading this

Trannyhead said...

BWAHAHAHA.

So - the semester after I had my baby, my husband would go to work during the day and I was the one at home all day with the baby. Then he'd take over in the evening so I could go to class. So on Sundays, I'd cook all our food for the week and freeze it. I'd then heat it up for hubby when he got home. I'd scarf mine down while driving to school.

Just as an FYI? Some foods are not meant to be frozen. Really most foods are not meant to be frozen.

*gag*

Proto Attorney said...

Sounds like you need a baby backpack (or frontpack, actually)! Those things are great... except for the distinct feeling that you're hugely pregnant again!