The Fault In My Cooking

Dear World,

I’ve always been more of a person that studies. All the time. Books, novels and even encyclopaedias. As such, I never gave attention to the fact that I should learn to cook. I never really understood the importance of such a skill. And so it was.

My very first day in the university rooms. I went to buy milk. Came back and put it in the cupboard. Totally forgot the fact that I was supposed to put it in the fridge. Can you imagine that? Imagine how embarrassing it was for my flatmate (who I did not know at the time) to tell me there was a weird smell emanating from my cupboard. Bad first impressions. Very bad first impressions.

So next day I say to myself, ‘You idiot, make it seem like it was a one-off. Make a fried egg’. So it was. I got up in the morning, before everyone else. Went to the kitchen and took out the frying pan. I felt in the groove. I thought I could do it. I was wrong.

I, in my better judgement, put the cooking hobs on maximum heat. In hindsight, I should have put it on medium heat. And before I realized what was going on beside me, the egg burnt. If you think that was bad, think what happened next.

The flatmates walked in. My ego was too high a price to pay. I quickly slid the egg (now burnt to ashes) into my plate and hid it under a can of beans I opened. And then, what seemed like an eternity, I put on a smile and ate it piece by painful piece..

Ah well. There is darkness before every dawn. So dawn came. And this time I was careful. So I put the egg in the frying pan. And on medium heat. And left it. I felt as if nothing was happening. And then. It happened.

In what seemed like a moment of rashness, I put in more oil because nothing seemed to be happening to the egg. And in that moment of madness, the oil lept from the frying pan onto my face. It was magical. It was pure gravity defying action. I was amazed. And then I realised. I had burnt my face.

In effect, it was Karma, It was meant to be. One day I burn an egg, the next the egg burns me. And I have never had egg since my first day of my first year at university.

For the next few weeks I was in denial. Everyone else seemed to be cooking and I was having the £2.50 burgers from Krunchy Fried Chicken. To the point where the guy knew my name and gave me special discounts. Sigh.

And then. After a month. I gathered the courage to cook again. Never have I been so wrong.

Being the egoistic person I have always been, instead of making something simple, I decided to make Pizza. I decided to make dough first. So I did the dough and let it keep for a while on the kitchen. I covered it with transparent film to keep it from other stuff that could get in it. After a while, I thought the time was right to put it in the oven. And so I did. And I left it. According to the time I set, I put it in. And then it was time to take it out. And so I saw hell on Earth.

Yep. I forgot to take the plastic film off. And so there was black smoke spread across the whole flat. That was the day I cemented my reputation of being a terrible cook not only to my flatmates but also the 300 other people that had to leave their rooms because of the fire alarm at 1 in the night.

Life was never the same again. My flatmates refused to let me be in the kitchen without being ‘supervised’. It was the lowest of the low. And so it was for the whole year. Krunchy just gained a loyal customer.

Then came my second year. And with a new year comes new determination.

I convinced myself to make pasta. And everything was proceeding fine. According to me, that is. After making it, I tasted it and it was terrible. I didn’t realise what I did wrong. Till I asked my friends. And I felt stupid.

Basically when the pasta instructions said, ‘put cheese on the pasta’, I put cheese on the pasta while the water was still boiling inside the pot. And so, my new flatmates were introduced to my amazing cooking.

And then, believe it or not, there was a day when I actually managed to make proper pasta. Yes, you heard right. Proper pasta. I put it to a side so as to eat later on.

And then I forgot about it. And when I remembered, it was too late. It was green with fungus and white with more fungus. My flatmates found out before me, and put a picture on facebook. And then the few that didn’t know, knew as well.

And then I lay dormant, praying one day I’d wake up with the skills of Batman or a Superman. The day still hasn’t come yet. I kid you not when I say this but I think I’ll die in the kitchen one day. 3000K in the laboratory melting metals is not a problem for me, but anything more than a microwave set to defrost in the kitchen haunts me.

Just yesterday I burnt myself by pouring boiling water on my hands while attempting to make pot noodles. And that is enough to summarise my expertise. Ah well. One can only hope. And I’ll keep on hoping.

Much Love

H.