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Yeah, I suck at cooking. How about I punch you in the mouth, bitch? Paul Ryan
I made an apple crisp for the first time in my life yesterday. The NewspaperTM - which employs me - is doing a special issue about the unique joys of our fair town, and one of my articles dealt with recipes involving apples, the local specialty. I needed a photo to go with the article, so I offered to make one of the recipes. "How hard could it be to make an apple crisp?" I said to myself, completely forgetting my short, unpleasant employment at a Perkins restaurant during college. I was the only person the manager ever fired for sheer lack of cooking ability. I was never late and always worked hard, but I just couldn't cook. As the manager put it when he fired me, "You're just . . . really awful at it." A wise man once said cooking is simple, and no matter how long it's been since you last attempted it, all your experience comes back immediately. This was true in my case. Unfortunately, all my cooking experiences have been bad ones. When I was eight, I rolled up a slice of american cheese in raw cookie dough, and gave it to my mom to eat. "I invented it," I proudly said, a big smile on my face. My mother took one bite and nearly vomited on the rug. Sadly, my cooking hasn't gotten much better. I was hoping this recipe would be my first triumph since last year, when I successfully cooked scrambled eggs. My first task was peeling the apples. I always eat apples with the skin on, so I'm not very good at peeling them. I'm a bachelor, so I certainly don't have any sort of peeling device, and by the time I peeled each apple it was roughly one-fourth its original size. So much for having a few apples left over to eat later. Next I got ready to combine the flour, brown sugar, cinnamon, and margarine. "This is the easy part!" I said to myself, trying to force a undeserved morale boost after my horrendous peeling job. Naturally, I screwed up this step as well. My bachelorhood once again came into play. Lacking any sizable bowls, I was forced to mix the equivalent of 18 ounces of dry material in a very small cereal bowl. Most of it ended up on the floor. Naturally, when it came time to pack the mixture over the top of the sliced apples, I didn't have enough of it. So I got the measuring cup from the sink (Don't get too excited. I only have a measuring cup so I can make Kool-Aid) and made a new batch of mixture. A note to other men who don't know how to cook, but may want to try someday: if you pour flour in a wet measuring cup, the flour sticks to it. If you then get frustrated and refuse to clean out the measuring cup before pouring in the brown sugar, the brown sugar will get stuck even worse. However, if you throw the measuring cup across the living room in anger, the flour and brown sugar will magically become unstuck, and end up all over the carpet.
Eventually I got things right and came out with a decent apple crisp. It's a little heavy on the "crisp", but I like it that way. It makes it taste more like an apple pie. The fact that it actually tastes good shows that even an idiot can cook. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to clean the flour and brown sugar off my carpet.
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My kitchen counter is covered in flour. Every time I walk, little bits of brown sugar crunch under my feet. There's margarine all over the front of the toaster. The drain in my kitchen sink is blocked up with - you guessed it - flour, brown sugar, and margarine. This is what happens when I try to cook.
Bob Costas is frightening me
