The news has been so gloomy lately I thought I would uplift our spirits and our stomachs with a little culinary madness. As I sifted through photographs tonight, I ran across a few recipes gone awry. Ok Ok! All my recipes go awry but that's beside the point. Before I toss these in the recycle bin and down the garbage disposal, I thought you might enjoy them for your Sunday dinner. Keep the Pepto Bismol handy and take in the joyous sight of my phenomenal award-winning cooking.
No. They are not sugar cookies with cracks.
They are cornbread cracks that never made it to the little muffins they were meant to be.
No matter how much I sang Springsteen to them they wouldn't rise.
Of course, I cooked none of it.
But I can shop like nobody's business. And I'm very good at romantic lighting.
It takes talent to strategically place candles amongst parsley. That counts for something in this world. I wasn't supposed to cook the parsley, was I?
Maybe I should have eaten the moldy muffins.
My refrigerator once looked like this. Once. I made the salads and cut up the strawberries myself. I didn't require band aids, a tetanus shot or emergency surgery.
It was a good day in the kitchen.
Truth be told, I don't enjoy all this cooking culinary mess. I used to when I was married. Does it really matter in a long line of skinny starving husbands that my cooking was grounds for divorce?
Baby Boy doesn't mind that I can't cook. That just means more ice cream for him.
One day when I cook up the perfect dish, I will show it to you. Don't hold your breath.
I am presently accepting applications for a cook. Male. Preferably male. Single.
Someone who will appreciate my flair for smokey kitchens and melting candles.