Worse Than A Bad Cook? Try Eating It!
Posted: Thursday, January 05, 2012
by Octavia Hansen
Octavia Hansen
There are worse things than being a bad cook. There's having to eat something from a bad cook who thinks they are a good cook. This was an act of kindness on my part, in keeping with that ever active game of "I like you and will try anything to please you until I find out nothing will ever work to keep us together." I'm sure we have all played this game before.
At first, I thought this was only his ploy that I, too, had developed in my early years of dating. When I first started dating, I was a good cook. Because of this, men would come to my house for dinner. It didn't take me long to realize that it meant I was paying for the meal, doing all the work and this guy was getting a free ride. So I became a bad cook and guys would take me out. I kept the same nasty over-cooked cut of beef for a very long time in my freezer and would get it out, re-heat it, and upon serving, the gentlemen would suggest we go out for dinner. I never had to buy a new piece of meat -- why ruin anything new when the old one kept serving its purpose? I cook great for myself, I keep that as one of my many hidden talents.
Stupid as my optimism turned out, the saving grace of dating a man who is crap in the kitchen is that you will NOT be overeating. You also become very good about taking smaller portions and becoming a magician with a oversized napkin in your lap. It's amazing what you can make disappear the very second they are distracted by something . . . ANYTHING.
Yes, hope springs eternal when you think you've found someone to spend time with. One of the things you need to find out early -- can you eat with this person or do you start collecting menus from every delivery/take away restaurant within easy driving distance from your about to be abused kitchen? Take my learned advice -- start collecting those menus!
I don't know who told this guy he could cook. I really think it was like being a self-ordained minister . . . self declaration is the easiest confirmation possible. When I looked around his place (yes, women do this) I did not see any cook books, any how-to-cook DVDs, nor a collection of recipes either contained or roaming free across the vast savannah of his kitchen. This should have been a clue but until the truth is served up on a plate in heaping portions . . . I just can't see it. Sherlock Holmes I am NOT.
He had all the right implements. He had measuring spoons and cups, cooking dishes, gourmet garlic press, lemon juicer, zester, and all the spatulas, ladles and knives no kitchen should be without -- everything that should have produced stellar results in ready nourishment. Now, realize here that kitchenware does not make you a chef the way buying oil and a filter does not make you a mechanic. He did not know this. I guess he thought that if he had the right tools, magically everything would come together. WRONG! When Eric Clapton plays guitar, you picking up the same guitar will not sound the same in your hands. GET IT?
There are some chefs who can wing it. I have known such people and supped at their table with much delight. There was no time I sat down at this man's table that I didn't wince and planned for some kind of exit.
Again, as an optimist, I didn't think this would last long. How much can someone cook? Most people only cook a handful of recipes before they repeat themselves or start going out to dinner. WRONG AGAIN! I don't know where he got his ideas or inspirations but each meal was a sin unto itself. Knowing there is a massive section of the populace at any given time wasting away from hunger, this man would massacre perfectly good food in the name of his culinary talent -- or rather, lack thereof. There are so many vegetables that don't even need to be cooked, but this man would have none of that! He'll teach those veggies to be wholesome, fresh and healthy! And there wasn't a piece of meat that he couldn't turn into roof shingles or shoe leather with a pan or an oven.
Ron White, comedian from The Blue Collar Tour, mentioned when he was first married that he had to clue in his young bride that the smoke alarm was not a cooking timer. Oh, if only this bad cook would have heard that . . . and laughed. He was sitting next to me (at home, fortunately), hearing this, when I spewed food instead of laughter following this observation . . . but he did not put it together why I found it so funny. This also was a clue that we did not laugh at the same things. I laughed at him. He didn't laugh.
There were times I would try to gently steer him in a more digestive direction . . . "Honey, not everyone cooks with a flame thrower." or "My sweet, I don't think you need to use the entire family-sized can of jalapenos in the pancakes." You know how some people can't take a hint? This guy couldn't take a statement, lecture, shout or projectile vomiting as a sign that he should not be in the kitchen.
And he watched cooking shows! There are entire channels on cable television devoted to cooking anything and everything -- Italian, Mexican, Bar-B-Que experts, Americas Test Kitchen. Public television shows people cooking all day on Saturdays. There is even cooking on the travel channels -- half of the adventure of traveling is eating. There are books with step-by-step photos and there are DVDs ready to show you everything from picking out the groceries to a better way of cleaning the pots and pans when you are done, to help you have more fun and be a better chef.
BUT NO! Maybe he thought just having these programs on would be enough to improve a meal. Maybe it was supposed to be like subliminal advertising or sleep learning . . . hear it enough and you've got it. This man would never hear it enough. There wasn't enough time in his life to be a better cook. He never put it together that what was served in a restaurant was NOTHING whatsoever even similar to what he produced in the kitchen . . . EVER! Maybe he was colorblind . . . golden brown was always charred, crispy meant charcoal briquettes, and flakey meant it hadn't burned through enough of the top layer to be a solid mass.
Didn't matter what he used . . . toaster, toaster oven, big oven, stove top, microwave . . . everything came out the same. Most things stuck on the original cooking surface . . . didn't want to leave the pan, the dish, the pot, the plate. I'll swear one of his ingredients was super glue -- that he put down a liberal coating onto the plates and then put the food on top of that. I could see where this was a great idea on a windy day if you were eating outdoors, but there wasn't much of a breeze through the kitchen once the fire was out.
I LOVE new kitchen items -- everything positively gleams with newness. Metal is so shiny, even plastic looks happy when it's new -- but one good tour of duty in this man's kitchen and most things were permanently disabled. I've never seen THAT done to teflon EVER! How can you wreck a glass bowl? Well, for one thing, bowls are for mixing, even Pyrex, not for roasting over an open flame. Did you know that Pyrex will self-destruct on an electric burner? I did. He had to find out himself.
And clean up wasn't just a chore, it was penance. At least I'm a wizard at cleaning, and I thought this would help . . . but no . . . just like his culinary talents, his cleaning ability was nought. At least at this portion of his kitchen escapades I didn't have to attempt to ingest anything. There are some simple things to keep a kitchen clean, not just looking clean but smelling clean. Sponges, rags and any kind of cleaning cloth should be changed regularly. Every day is best but if you don't cook much, they can last longer. I don't know what this man actually did, but everything was greasy. Was he using olive oil in place of liquid soap? Even just rinsing with hot water breaks down oil and grease enough to fein clean. And I tried not to look at the floor. I don't know when (if ever) it was cleaned but it showed no signs of any recent activity with a broom or mop.
Okay. I gave him a shot. I lost a lot of weight -- good as this side effect is, there is such a thing as underweight and undernourished. I had achieved both. I'm all in favor of a new experience, and I had had it. I was done. Even when I told him that I could not eat with him, he could not understand. Wasn't he a catch because he was so domestic? Well, I'm on that catch and release program and I'm throwing back the ones I don't want. I'm sure for the variety of people out in the world, that somewhere there is a woman with no tastebuds or sense of smell, or maybe she'll drink a lot of the cooking sherry while he's abusing the kitchen, and love this man for the one-of-a-kind gourmet he proclaims.
Anyway . . . the doorbell . . . my pizza is here . . . gotta go . . . happy eating!
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