I love to cook. I really do. The only problem is I like to make extravagant meals, replete with exquisite flavors and delicate harmonies of color and palate. Of course, this doesnít bode very well for a Poor College Student™ who barely has time to grab fast food. This semester Iíve had so much trouble just keeping up with schoolwork that I have barely had time to make a quick bowl of pasta for myself.
Now, one well-known fact about the culinary arts is that being able to cook is a very attractive quality. Itís a great date-impresser (assuming, of course, that you actually can cook, or can at least fake it.) Ben told me a story of how his three roommates helped him prepare a large dinner one night to impress a boy. When all was ready, they all skedaddled for a bit; the boy came over, oohed and aahed over the spread, and then everyone else walked back in the door like they were just getting home. Thankfully, this trick wonít work on me when we made dinner Wednesday night, I saw he was having trouble just peeling potatoes, let alone trying to boil them to make mashed potatoes. It was pretty sad.
Wednesday night we had a little one-month celebration, just to be extra-sappy. Our anniversary (what would the correct term for a monthaversary? Mensiversary? Lunaversary?) was actually Monday, but the boy had to work. So that night I called him up and said, ďListen. I feel like cooking. What do you want to eat?Ē
About an hour later, I was preparing Cajun salmon steaks and an Indian rice concoction while Ben struggled with potatoes. About the time he finally was successful in wresting all the potatoes into the pot to boil, I began preparing the rice. I rooted around for a proper pot to prepare it in, but to no avail. His roommate, who was helping Ben with the potatoes, handed me a glass casserole dish and said, ďHere, Iíve made macaroni in this before. Itíll be fine.Ē
I bet you can all guess where the story goes from here.
It was all going along swimmingly and I was probably a few minutes from being done, when there was suddenly a little ďtink!Ē and the dish fell apart. For twenty seconds, I stared at the rice, which was suddenly turning into fried rice as it sizzled directly on the burner. It took Ben laughing hysterically at me and the smoke alarm going off to get me to pick my jaw up off the floor and start trying to clean up the mess.
A new culinary masterpiece. I call it Indian Glass Rice Surprise.
At least the salmon was tasty...
Happy lunaversary! Glad you've finally found someone and are happy with them, you deserve as many boys as the world has to offer you.
But, back to the cooking. You were making potatoes and rice? Though, if there can be two boys in one relationship, I suppose you can have two starches in one meal.
by mg at November 30, 2001 12:11 PM
Potatoes were his contribution. I would have preferred a vegetable, but it was his doing.
by snaggle at November 30, 2001 12:49 PM
i hope that no one ever feeds me indian glass rice surprise.
i love the story, though. happy lunaversity! University? different stuff.
and, yes, the requistite "you guys are so cute together!" :)
by mrh at November 30, 2001 11:04 PM
oh yeah - cooking. a great skill, especially when I was single and younger. No better ploy than inviting a girlie over for dinner that you cooked. It impresses AND, you know, she's already there in your apartment ("a bit more wine? Would you like to watch a film? Oh...that wasn't they type of movie I was thinking of, but...OK...")
I have this wonderful device called a potato ricer. you boil your potatoes and then just use this little piston thing to mash them through a sort of screen. Oh - here it's easier to see than explain.
by Charles at December 1, 2001 11:07 PM
and my point with that was, you don't have to mess with peeling the spuds.
by Charles at December 1, 2001 11:08 PM
I dunno. It's a nice tool and all, but I kind of like peeling various objects.
by mg at December 1, 2001 11:50 PM
by prashant at February 4, 2003 11:33 PM