With the holidays approaching, I am reminded of my early days of cooking. When I first married I did not own a cookbook and I really had NO desire to cook. Now, I like to eat and always have, so this presented a slight problem. Luckily for me, my husband was a bachelor for quite some time and knew how to cook.
As he slowly introduced me to the wondrous world of cooking, I had a few ambitious moments that I will now confess.
1. I did not touch raw meat. Yuck! I used lots of utensils to lift meat out of the packaging and into a pot, pan, or whatever device I was using for cooking. Pathetic, I realize.
2. Overzealous as usual, I invited my family over to my shoebox size apartment for Thanksgiving dinner. I cooked! My aunt reminded me to make pumpkin pie no less than 492 times in the week prior to Thanksgiving.
Upon entering my shoebox, she immediately went in search of the pie. “Where’s the pumpkin pie you promised?” She questioned.
Insulted I redirected her attention to the pies lining the windowsill about 5 inches from her bottom.
“No, where’s the PUMPKIN PIE?” She repeated.
Annoyed now, I grabbed it and placed the pie in her hand. She laughed and laughed in astonishment. I was so upset. My pie looked picture perfect; the crust slightly browned. Between gasps for air, she managed to spit out, “I’ve never seen a pumpkin pie with a lid on it!”
Yes, I used a pie crust top on my first pumpkin pie. I’ve learned my lesson.
3. My mother-in-law is known for her pumpkin bread. It’s wonderful and a little cream cheese makes it a fall masterpiece. I’m not an artist, so I shouldn’t have tried to reproduce greatness, but I did. I made 12 individual sized loaves of pumpkin bread, handing them out to friends and family. Feeling quite proud of myself, I gloated over my domestic progress. All gloating ended when my pastor’s wife complimented me on my tasty bread. “Don’t worry about the cloves,” she said, “we just spit them out.”
“Oh, No! They didn’t melt?”
Why I thought whole, rock-hard cloves would melt inside batter is beyond me. Now I only stock my pantry with ground cloves.
Am I alone, or do you ladies and gentlemen (perhaps) have a few cooking confessions of your own?