Usually, I describe myself as one who does not have much skill in the domestic arts, but this week I have impressed myself. Ok, it actually started out badly when I nearly exploded by house by lighting the oven twice (I thought it hadn't lit the first time) and then burned the hell (I mean this in a literal sense) out of the cinnamon bread I tried to make for my friend. Fortunately for her, she did not show up for our scheduled visit. So I ate the inside of the charred bread, which wasn't that bad. I never waste food, even food that is almost inedible.
But after that depressing incident, things improved. For one, because I thought my friend was coming over, I vacuumed a few places on the millions of rugs that Anne has all over her house. Or, as we say here, I "hoovered". (Ana 3am bhoofr. Heya 3am bthoovr. It's a great word that is fun to conjugate.) That hoovering inspired me to actually clean my room. No wait. The next day when I had lots of stuff to do that I didn't feel like doing, that's when I got inspired. Anyway, the point is, I don't have suitcases in my room anymore. It is a weird feeling, but kind of nice.
The crowning achievement of my domesticity has been these last few days. First of all, I made buttercrisp chicken (my favorite chicken thing that my mom made a lot because she knew I would make her life happier if she did). This I made from scratch! Which makes me happy because recipes stress me out. I feel like I have to measure everything a billion times and they use words like "fold" and "broil" which confuse me (does "broil" mean "baking something in the oven"?). And the best thing is that the chicken actually tasted good and went well with the salad that I also made. Ok, fine, it went well with the lettuce that was the only vegetable I had in the house because Fuzzy likes to eat it. I did wash the lettuce though.
And then I had another friend over. This friend actually came! And I successfully served her, using a tray. Serving drinks on trays is a necessity here. Serving everything on trays is a necessity. People would probably serve tissues on trays if they thought of it (tissues are what we use for napkins here-they're not very sturdy, but they are softer than paper towels). And I really hate trays and breakable dishes. But I didn't think I should serve drinks in brightly colored plastic cups, so I used the glass cups. And of course, the dreaded tray. Every time I carry a tray with anything on it, I have visions of me tripping and flinging food all over the room. I don't think this has actually happened to me, but it's one of my greatest fears. That and being stung by a bee which has also never happened to me. It's the proverbial fear of the unknown, I guess. Still, even if I knew what is was like to lose control of a tray, I don't think it would lessen my fear of it.
Finally, today I made zucchini bread to bring to the Iftar meal. And I didn't burn it. It looked perfect, but I didn't get to try any because they didn't serve it to us. I was kind of annoyed because usually they do. But since we were running late, I didn't have time to arrange it nicely on a plate. So maybe they didn't know how to get it out of the pan and didn't want to risk a faux pas by serving it wrong. Still, the batter tasted good and that is always a good sign.
And the best thing is, after I made the zucchini bread I remembered to turn off the oven. Which is something I didn't remember to do after the chicken. Well, technically, I remembered. Six hours later...
But after that depressing incident, things improved. For one, because I thought my friend was coming over, I vacuumed a few places on the millions of rugs that Anne has all over her house. Or, as we say here, I "hoovered". (Ana 3am bhoofr. Heya 3am bthoovr. It's a great word that is fun to conjugate.) That hoovering inspired me to actually clean my room. No wait. The next day when I had lots of stuff to do that I didn't feel like doing, that's when I got inspired. Anyway, the point is, I don't have suitcases in my room anymore. It is a weird feeling, but kind of nice.
The crowning achievement of my domesticity has been these last few days. First of all, I made buttercrisp chicken (my favorite chicken thing that my mom made a lot because she knew I would make her life happier if she did). This I made from scratch! Which makes me happy because recipes stress me out. I feel like I have to measure everything a billion times and they use words like "fold" and "broil" which confuse me (does "broil" mean "baking something in the oven"?). And the best thing is that the chicken actually tasted good and went well with the salad that I also made. Ok, fine, it went well with the lettuce that was the only vegetable I had in the house because Fuzzy likes to eat it. I did wash the lettuce though.
And then I had another friend over. This friend actually came! And I successfully served her, using a tray. Serving drinks on trays is a necessity here. Serving everything on trays is a necessity. People would probably serve tissues on trays if they thought of it (tissues are what we use for napkins here-they're not very sturdy, but they are softer than paper towels). And I really hate trays and breakable dishes. But I didn't think I should serve drinks in brightly colored plastic cups, so I used the glass cups. And of course, the dreaded tray. Every time I carry a tray with anything on it, I have visions of me tripping and flinging food all over the room. I don't think this has actually happened to me, but it's one of my greatest fears. That and being stung by a bee which has also never happened to me. It's the proverbial fear of the unknown, I guess. Still, even if I knew what is was like to lose control of a tray, I don't think it would lessen my fear of it.
Finally, today I made zucchini bread to bring to the Iftar meal. And I didn't burn it. It looked perfect, but I didn't get to try any because they didn't serve it to us. I was kind of annoyed because usually they do. But since we were running late, I didn't have time to arrange it nicely on a plate. So maybe they didn't know how to get it out of the pan and didn't want to risk a faux pas by serving it wrong. Still, the batter tasted good and that is always a good sign.
And the best thing is, after I made the zucchini bread I remembered to turn off the oven. Which is something I didn't remember to do after the chicken. Well, technically, I remembered. Six hours later...
I have the possibility of so many uproariously hilarious comments to make in response to this post. Unfortunately, I do not feel that I can reach my maximum potential due to inadequate sleep and entirely too much time spent with squishy one year olds today. Let me just say that I'm hoping we will eat out lots when I come visit you and that you won't push yourself to feed me home cooked meals. I also require more vegetable options than lettuce, not being an undersized rodent. That was a reference to Fuzzy, not you.
ReplyDeleteI vote that we put Emily in charge of all shared meals during the upcoming visit... :-) I heard that the inside of your bread was quite good, so you can blame the oven for that one!
ReplyDeleteI don't know, I think this whole "I'm not domestic, I can't cook, I can't clean, waahh!" thing is all a facade. I think she will make a lovely wife for Romantic A.
ReplyDeleteI agree with Emily...you like putting on the helpless female role so other people will cook for you. I want to make zucchini bread now. That sounds really good! Honestly, you just have to learn gas ovens--each one is unique with certain idiosyncracies. Like women.
ReplyDeleteHey Em, as you typed your comment, how did you pronounce "facade" in your head? :-)
ReplyDeleteOk, so she even knows how to make Kettle Korn...I wasn't even completely sure how to do that. So miss "I'm not shatra in the kitchen," stop your lying! If it's to make A go away, it's not working.
ReplyDelete