Cooking trials!

I've always shied away from the kitchen-in the cooking field that is, not in the snacking field. Cracking an egg itself would end up in a disaster, and god knows how many eggs I have wasted, in attempting to fry and scramble them!

Last six months have not been easy, with respect to food. I have eaten shawarmas, grapes, obscure sandwiches and very dubious beef curries. So did I decided in January...it was time. (this is where I need a possible drumroll)

I started off with noodles. While other people take five minutes to make them, I took half an hour. In my defence, I was boiling them on a very slow stove. So while the noodles gradually turned colour, I would pace up and down, occasionally stirring it, much to the bafflement of my flatmates. I tried being experimental, and cutting up sausages and putting them in....well that didn't turn out too well either. After all the effort, the noodles didn't seem too bad...though some at the bottom were slightly uncooked and were rather crunchy. I thought I'll attempt it again. This time my friend suggested a better idea would be to put it in the microwave. I did. It was ready and cooked. The slight snag was that water had spilt all over the microwave, as I had lovingly filled the bowl till the top. So I had to spend half an hour washing it. I anxiously took a picture of the noodles and sent it to my exasperated friends, who all tiredly chorused, "yes, that's what it's supposed to look like."

So I lazily lived on noodles for the first few days. And then I came across the next idea-macaroni and cheese. I hastily bought all that was required, and arranged it in a line on the shelf. I had never used a measuring cup before, and till today I'm not even sure I measured anything correctly. 200 gms...300 gms...ah well doesn't matter, in it all goes. Once again I paced around the kitchen like a sleepwalking Lady Macbeth, trying to soothe myself with peaceful music. I found that there was too much water in the saucepan, and I called my mother to beg for a solution. She didn't answer the phone, and so in the end I took matters into my own hands and emptied half the water into the dustbin. God knows what I've put into that dustbin.

There is a time in everyone's life, that they wish that some magical chant can come to their rescue. This was mine. I can swear, that every Harry Potter spell was running through my head.

Finally the macaroni and cheese turned out just fine and I ate it in one gulp. This is the misery of cooking your own food. You don't know how to ration it, and how to save it for the next day. The macaroni and cheese moved on to a better place in an instant.

Then....the herculean task of chicken.

I threw pepper on the hapless chicken and smeared it with honey mustard after finding some crazy recipe on google. The saucepan crackled so much that I took the chicken out thinking it had cooked. Of course it hadn't, it was raw as ever. So I dumped the unhappy chicken back on the pan, and it crackled some more. I suddenly had a fear of the fire alarm going off.

Well it wasn't too bad.

Then I put the next few pieces in the oven. I had to wait half an hour, but I have the patience of a squirrel. The pacing routine continued, and I opened the oven. The heat hit my face, and I very smartly touched the baking tray which had been in an oven of 200 degrees. I snatched my hand back, and now I am very proud that I have tiny white scar on one finger. I don't know why I'm proud of such things. I went and grabbed the nearest towel and took out the chicken. To my utmost relief, it was pretty and golden, and had a vague resemblance to what my mother made at home.

And of course that chicken went to a better place too.

Eh...well. Cooking and what i call "ovening" is some fun. One day when I have courage I'll probably attempt a chocolate cake.

WHEN and IF I have courage.