I am fortunate to work with a great group of ladies. We all get along really well, and that makes work less like work, which is awesome. I realize that makes my situation relatively rare, especially where women are concerned, since we all know "we" can sometimes tend to be one catty group of tigresses.
One of the gals who I work with happens to be challenged in the ways of cooking. And when I say challenged, I mean seriously challenged. Like when she went to do some baking a while back and got stumped, she called another friend from work and had the following converstation:
KC: So, I'm doing some baking, and the recipe has me stumped.
DO: (who was on a girls' weekend with other friends...) OK, what's your problem? And by the way, you do realize that I'm with a carful of other women...
KC: (showing no signs of apparent embarrassment...) Yeah, well, so this recipe says to separate the egg, and then it says to take the white and do something with it...So, I know the yolk is the yellow part, but what's the white?
At this point, I should point out that DO has put KC on speaker phone. And yes, they are BFF's. :-)
KC can now hear hooting and howling from the background.
DO: Are you kidding me?
KC: No, I mean, there's the yolk, and then there's that clear looking stuff, so I'm assuming that has to be the white, but it's not white, so why would they call it that?
DO: OMG, you are so literal. What am I going to do with you?
KC: Well, seriously, I don't bake! How am I ever going to learn if there's stuff like this? Why would they call that the white? Is that what it is?
DO: Yes, KC. That's the white.
KC: Oh. OK.
And on she went but not without some more complaining about how that wasn't fair, etc. :-)
So, recently, KC was at a family gathering where a favorite aunt served up a chicken casserole that everyone was raving about. KC decided to ask for the recipe and try her hand at Aunt Virginia's dish at home. She shared the rest of the story while we were all at lunch a couple of weeks ago and had the whole table in stitches. I asked her to "guest blog" it. I give you my dear (and good-natured) friend KC's account of her kitchen encounter (names changed to protect the cooking challenged...)!
At a family reunion this past summer my Aunt made a chicken recipe she called Velveeta Chicken. It tasted good and I am always in the market for new chicken recipes as my husband loves chicken. So one day I am making up the grocery list and I look at the receipe my Aunt had written out for me and it says to put in 3/4 can milk. At the grocery store my husband comes up an aisle and asks me about the canned milk (we split up when we grocery shop; it speeds up the time and our kids like "racing" against Daddy to see who can get more items).
Anyway, back to the milk. He says there are 2 kinds of canned milk, evaporated and condensed sweetened, which one do you want. I don't know, I say. The recipe calls for canned milk. It doesn't say which kind. I tell him I think it is probably the condensed one. I prepare the Velveeta chicken that night for dinner. We sit down to eat and I take a bite. Hmmm this doesn't quite taste like my Aunt's. I take another bite. I say to my husband, I think we chose the wrong can of milk.
My husband gets up and gets the salsa out of the fridge (Salsa is the answer to every food mishap!). I continue to take some bites until I just can't anymore. I tell him that is it...I can't eat it. I look at my children who have chosen to eat their corn first and my oldest, who is 5, asks me, Mommy, do I have to take 2 bites of it? (I make them take 2 bites of all new foods.) I look at him and say no, honey, and pick up his plate and scrape off the food and then I do the same for my other son.
I then tell my husband to throw the rest out.
I then make a mental note that when my mother needs a good laugh I will have to share this story with her!!!
KC, thanks for sharing this great story with us!! Later, KC found out that the recipe called for not "canned milk" at all but 3/4 can of milk. You were supposed to fill the empty cream of chicken soup can with milk. Go figure! Her aunt had dictated the recipe over the phone. Lost in translation!
What cooking mishaps have you had in your kitchen???
Balanced Babe
