This is a post about people who cannot cook.
aka me.
My mom revised the chore chart, and my chore on Monday was to help with supper. We were making homemade pizza. She had already started on the pizzas, so she asked me to make a scrambled egg for my sis Mary. So immediately I started, cracking and beating the egg, spraying the frying pan, and dumping the liquid in. I stood there, spatula in hand, occasionally touching the egg to see if it had hardened at all. After a few pokes, I began to wonder if I had forgotten how long it took to cook scrambled eggs, or if something was wrong. Then, I saw it. My runny egg was on the front burner. And the smoking-almost-on-fire towel was on the back... Whoops!! Maybe I should spend a little more time studying the little symbols next to the burner nobs?
BTW, have any of you smelled burnt dish towel?
What are your kitchen experiences?
Later,
Kathryn (aka Chatty Kathy)