Gourmet Cooking Club

I’m on injured reserve this week. 

My hubby planned the week’s menu when I was not feeling so great – so he’s pretty much in charge until the weekend. 

But on Saturday I will attempt stew, I think.

In the meantime, I thought I’d delve into my past, again, and share the story of my brief, but eventful time in the Gourmet Cooking Club…

When I was in Junior High, I joined the Gourmet Cooking Club.  Not sure why… maybe I was still in denial of my cooking disability, or I actually thought I could learn something, but either way, I joined.

We met once weekly after school to cook a delicious and gourmet meal (or as gourmet as you can get from 7th and 8th graders).  Our advisor would demonstrate a recipe to make and then we’d be split into groups to start cooking.  She would wander the room giving helpful hints and advice.

I remember our first meal: beef tacos.  I remember this because it was where my first mishap occurred (if you can call a second degree burn a “mishap.”)  The actual cooking went fine — I think I even chopped some veggies for the tacos.  It was after we were finished that I unintentionally broke a cooking rule.  I was on dish duty and decided to take the sizzling hot pan and run cold water over it.

Did you know that causes burning hot oil and water to splatter and spray?  And if your arm is anywhere nearby that it can cause an indescribably painful burn? 

I do.  I learned that lesson very well that day.

But I didn’t give up.  I came back the next week ready to try again (and tried to ignore the fact that the advisor never strayed far from our group).

I don’t remember what we made that week, I just knew it was uneventful.

The following week was several dishes.  One of which included peeled potatoes.  Did you know that if your peeler is new and really sharp, you can peel a strip of skin off your thumb? 

Guess what?  I do.

The week after that I caused a small grease fire.   (Hot oil again – though I did know better than to put it out with water.  Thank God for small favors.)

My last week in the club, my nervousness led to a dropped knife.  It landed very close to a friend’s toe. 

I’m not making this up.  I wish I were.

It was one thing to put myself in harm’s way, quite another to involve others.  I decided then that my foray into cooking was over.

I’m sure the class and the advisor were quite relieved. 

And I really haven’t cooked regularly since.  Until now, that is.

With my track record, I say I am doing rather well, don’t you? 

(Obvious attempt for compliments acknowledged.)

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