Cooking mishaps…

Do you have a funny cooking story? Most of us do, I think.

At the time, it might be a terrible experience, but maybe now you can look back at it with laughter. If I’m being honest, in my experience, I was able to see the funny side of it fairly quickly.

I love to cook. But I hate deciding what to cook.

When I was younger, I had it all really, what everybody wants and dreams for – a fast metabolism. I could eat anything I wanted. I remember pizza night when I was younger, Pizza night consisted of maybe 8 home-made pizzas. I’d polish off a whole pizza to myself. It was covered in ham and cheese, and yes- I’m one of those few who believe pineapple belongs on a pizza.

A loaded Hawaiian pizza, all to myself. Pizza night was the best.

Now though, I’m a little lighter on the cheese than I used to be, and it’s light cheese to boot.

I could eat just about anything I wanted without any consequences. I was a hairdresser in my early twenties, so long hours on my feet. I did not have a lot of time to eat properly when I ran on timers and time slots.

But cooking was always fun for me. It started as a way of feeling like an adult. I was living with my sisters and best friend and had just started seeing someone. I remember feeling like I had provided for someone other than myself, I enjoyed watching someone I loved or cared about enjoy the food I’d cooked.

I remember one time, it was coming into Summer and we had a fireplace throughout the winter. One of my clients suggested putting a pot on top of the fireplace with some oils in it and it would make the room smell nice. So, throughout the winter, this was what we did.

When it got warmer, the pot was cleaned and put away. Until I decided to use it to cook dinner one night. One of my sisters was home and my boyfriend came over for the night.

I was going to cook for us all. Nothing special. Sweet and sour chicken and rice.

It smelled amazing. I served it up and we sat around the coffee table watching something on the TV. I remember feeling like such a grown-up. Not only had I cooked, but we were sat around the coffee table eating a good meal. It, to me, was that ‘Friends’ feeling.

Let me explain what I mean. I grew up watching Friends as most people did, and I remember watching it hoping that I would have those moments in the show where you feel like you are in the grown-up world, that you made something of your own, you provided for yourself or someone, and most of all, that feeling like you have everything you need at that moment. Good food, surrounded by people you love and care about, feeling like you belong.

I was in that moment….until I took a mouthful of rice.

I knew instantly that something was wrong.

All I tasted was soap. But my brain couldn’t understand why. I didn’t want to spit it out, just in case it was just me that thought that, so swallowed my food, as gracefully as one can when one feels like their mouth is being washed out with soap.

I grew up in a time when the saying ‘Watch your mouth, or I’ll wash it out with soap” My parents never said that to me, but in the 90’s it was a threat to ward off colourful language.

As all this went through my mind, I watched my boyfriend and sister take a bite of food. My sister instantly spat it out and looked at me, and my boyfriend faltered. I couldn’t help but laugh and asked “So it tastes like soap to you too then?”

To say the meal was ruined, was and is an understatement.

By this stage we were all starving, while the pizza was ordered, my boyfriend ate the chicken off the top of the rice, carefully avoiding the soap-infused rice.

What had happened might you ask?

The pot I’d used to cook the rice in, was the same pot we had oil in and sat on top of the fireplace. I have since learned, that the oil we’d used had infused itself onto the surface of the inside of the pot, and when I cooked the rice, it became a soapy/oily mess.

I laugh now, as I did back then when I think of that experience. It’s stuck, in all our memories.

I have gone to great lengths to not make a meal as poorly as that ever again. I can comfortably say I’ve never come close to that, but I will admit I’ve made some meals that haven’t been enjoyable.

Flavours I thought I’d like but didn’t. Meals I’d tried and didn’t like, but have since come around to. Time and age are a wonderful thing when it comes to food. Taste buds change, and one’s understanding of flavours becomes clear.

It’s a journey that takes time. And one I am enjoying at the moment.

To sum it up, not every meal will be enjoyable. But learning is part of the ride though, right?

If you have a cooking story, please feel free to share, if you’d rather share privately, please feel free to contact me directly.

Until next time,

Be kind to yourself