"Mis-Adventures in the Kitchen with Vinny."
That's what my cooking show would be called if I had one. Or "What NOT to Do in the Kitchen...with Vinny."
So I get home from work and think, "hmm I'll make some pasta!" and get right into the kitchen ready to start cooking. I grab some ingredients for the gravy, and start it out like (I thought) my father had shown me. I put some oil into the pan, began to heat it up, and was going to add some garlic powder before I added my tomato sauce.
Little did I know (well I knew it but didn't think about it at the time) that heating oil in a pan is a terrible idea. It began to spurt and pop and I realized "hot damn, this isn't safe" and so as the intelligent person I am I take the pan off the stove to move it into the sink to dump it out. Mid-lift the oil POPS in the pan and sprays everywhere. I literally shrieked at the top of my lungs, thinking it was going to burn my flesh off. It did hit me in the face, but it was only a few specks and they weren't hot enough yet to do any (real) damage.
After that debacle I nixed the pasta and proceeded to make a super depressing bowl of rice with five frozen dumplings I've had in my freezer for over a month now. Not satisfying, or delicious.
And let's hark back to two weeks ago when I was looking in a cook book at this delicious-looking melted cheese sandwich with bacon and scallions that I tried to emulate. Instead, all I had was a globby cheese sandwich with some half-cooked bacon on it.
And I hate American cheese. It's still sitting in my fridge, where it will most likely remain until it turns green. Sitting beside my can of Four Loco strawberry. And a half-empty bag of bread. And that's it.