Maybe there’s truth to their claims…

by Katie on October 3, 2010

So, there was this incident in college. With burnt macaroni.

It’s really not as bad as it sounds. There were several of us making supper for at least 15 people, all staying in a three bedroom apartment that night, as Hurricane Rita made landfall. We called it ‘Ritas for Rita, but ended up serving beer, rather than ‘ritas. It fit our student budget better.

Anyway, since we were college students, and this event was taking place in an all male apartment, we were also dealing with limited cooking tools. You try finding a 20-year-old boy who owns a stock pot large enough to make three boxes of macaroni at once. Not going to happen.

Needless to say, boiling too many noodles in a pot that’s too small yields burnt macaroni.

So, this story got back to my parents. Well, my mom actually saw the burnt noodles discarded next to the sidewalk when she arrived in town the next day. Even worse, my brothers, who were super young and impressionable at the time, heard bits and pieces of the story. Specifically, the bit about black noodles and the piece about me being the person supervising that stove burner.

From that point forward, there was no convincing anyone in my family that I had one lick of know-how in the kitchen. They clearly never stopped by for the fried venison backstrap, mashed taters and gravy I served on several occasions.

But that’s okay. I just take their jokes and unfounded criticism and roll with it.

Brandon ate more than a few of my meals while we were dating and still asked me to marry him, and his belly has slowly but steadily rounded out in the last couple of years, so I figure I’m doing just fine.

Until this morning, that is…

I burnt ground meat, y’all.

Who does that?

Of course, I have an excuse for this story, too. I was up early, and decided to go ahead and prepare the taco meat for our after church lunch, since we’re usually both starving by the time we get home. So I browned it, then added my homemade taco seasoning (i.e. a dash of every Mexicanish seasoning in our cabinet) and some water, and placed the lid on to simmer.

I busied myself with other tasks like feeding the cows, letting the dogs out to run, and filing and paying our third quarter Arizona employer withholding taxes (random for a Sunday morning, I know).

Well, I made myself a little too busy. I noticed a faint funny smell while filling out the online tax form, but for some reason didn’t register that it was coming from the stove. When I got up to refill my coffee cup, the skillet was really steaming, and I put two and two together.

Sure enough, there was a lining of really brown (we won’t say black) ground meat stuck to the skillet.

Maybe there’s some truth to my family’s claims of my lack of ability in the kitchen after all…

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