I can’t cook.
It’s one of those skills that never penetrated the thick membrane that lines my skull and keeps my brain from leaking. I marvel at foodies who produce mouth-watering cuisine using random supplies from the pantry and refrigerator. Despite good intentions, I peer into those mysterious places and my mind goes blank.
My husband took over the grocery shopping 10 years ago when he noticed that “grocery shopping” failed to result in groceries. When the poor man eats one of my meals and says, “that was good,” it comes out sounding surprised. Like going to the dentist for a root canal and not experiencing any pain. It’s jaw-dropping amazing!
So, when we moved into our current house 6 years ago, it didn’t bother me that only one burner on the gas stove worked. My cooking is far from fancy, and juggling a pot and pan over the single flame was no biggie.
Then, this past June, the electric-powered oven broke. With only one working burner, the oven was somewhat handy. The three meals I make that consistently earn a “that was good” comment are oven-made, so this was not a positive turn of events.
We ordered the new element, and when it arrived two weeks later, the dear man tried to install it and broke the thingy inside the back of the oven. A gas-related complication meant that any attempt at further repair was likely to end with parts of this author and her handy hubby sprinkling the mountainside. We needed a professional.
Now, my better half thinks that since I started writing, my ability to accomplish basic tasks around the house has deteriorated to the point where he’d rather do everything himself. I have no idea where this silly thought came from, but I’m not complaining. More time to write. He takes on the responsibility of calling the manufacturer to see if there’s a repair service somewhere willing to send someone into the wilderness to fix this thing.
Stuck with a single burner and no oven, I have no choice but to cook stir-fry.
30 days later, I’m still cooking stir-fry.
60 days later, I’m getting a little sick of stir-fry.
90 days later, I decide to make stir-fry interesting and roll it up in wraps with sour cream and salsa. Hubby announces he needs to get that oven fixed ASAP.
120 days later, neither of us can deal with any more stir-fry. We loathe stir-fry and stir-fry wraps. Hubby calls Gadget who lives ten miles down the road. Despite some bad weather, Gadget comes over three days later and fixes the oven!
But wait, what about the burners! This very lovely fellow looks down the gas jet thingys and raises his eyebrows. “I think you have spider webs in your gas jets.” I haven’t used those burners in the 6 years I’ve lived here, so it sounds reasonable to me. He starts pulling the “web” out with a tiny hook, and it’s not spider webbing after all. It’s decade old mouse nesting. Ick. Yuck, Blech.
Anyway, now the burners all work and the oven is fixed, thanks to Gadget. To celebrate this miracle, the hubby ventured out in the rain, wind, and stormy weather to buy ingredients for one of my three reliably “good” meals. I’m all set to cook eggplant parmesan and garlic bread.
Then the power goes out!
This post is dedicated to a few blogging foodies that I’ve followed for some time now. They inspire me to try new recipes. Now I can!
If you like to cook (or want to try), click on over and pay them a visit.🙂