Big news: This morning…wait for it…wait for it…here it comes…I made pancakes. I don’t cook. At all. I’m proud to call my microwave my closest friend in the whole world. Would you believe when I met my husband ten years ago he didn’t even own a microwave? And would you believe I still went ahead and married the freak anyway? What was I thinking? Of course, I don’t have a lot of room to talk. I’m still on AOL and Blogger. Not exactly technologically advanced over here. But back to my point. I have never had a flair for cooking nor have I had much interest. Since as far back as I can remember, I’ve never gotten excited over a recipe let alone a book of recipes and definitely not a cooking show. I might be the only person I know who has not seen a single episode of Top Chef. Apparently it’s fascinating to people to see chefs marry a bunch of ingredients that don’t seem like they’d normally go together to create a culinary masterpiece – well, fascinating to other people. How about a program that can show me a faster way to microwave a hot dog? What about fewer steps to making mac & cheese from a box? Where’s the show for people like me?
The problem I have is actually two-fold: low interest coupled with lack of time. Before I had twins, I went through a phase where I cooked a lot, and by a lot I mean a couple of times a week. And by week, I mean month. Whatever. When I cooked it always served as a reminder that when it comes to meal preparation, simply put, I suck. Even shopping for a meal is anxiety provoking. I been known to become paralyzed standing in front of refrigerated chicken breasts trying to figure out how many I need, which kind are best and what the hell I’ll do with them when I get them home. You don’t want me anywhere near the spice aisle unless you want to witness a panic attack.
Way, way back in the day that I used to drink I loved making a pasta sauce because I could crack open the wine, pour some in the sauce, have a little myself, add some garlic, have a little more wine, add some more garlic cause really, can you ever have too much garlic, drink a little more wine, add a little more garlic -I may have lost track of how much garlic was in the sauce at that point -and so on. I haven’t made a sauce since. I tell myself it’s because I don’t want to be reminded of my cooking/wine ritual, but let’s be honest, I like take-out.
In my defense, I am truly busy and tired and by the end of the day have already prepared a lot of food for a lot of children.
Jon had to work today -which is Sunday-which left me alone with all three monkeys. I was about to prep some breakfast, meaning scrambled eggs for twins along with some microwaved turkey sausage when all of a sudden Elby gets a wild hair up her butt that she wants pancakes. “Pancakes? Are you high? I’ve barely microwaved my coffee yet!” is what I thought. But being the truly amazing, nurturing mother that I am, I said, “Hells yes! Let’s do it!” And that’s when I realized that I don’t know how to make pancakes. Luckily I managed to find a box of all purpose baking mix which I’d apparently bought with the intention of someday making a pancake. It was meant to be!
On my first try, the batter was the consistancy of cream of chicken soup but then I realized that the box called for 2 cups of mix and not one like I’d mistakenly measured in. Once that nastiness was behind me, I managed to make some griddle cakes but not without setting the smoke detector off and splashing a wee bit of piping hot pancake batter on Sadie’s head.
Naturally, after all my slaving away in the kitchen, the babies wanted no part of any pancakes so I ended up making them eggs and sausage after all. But Elby enjoyed hers very much. You’re welcome Elby. I hope that holds you over for at least a year because I see a lot of toast in your future. Love, Mama.