When I was a little girl I had an EZ Bake Oven and it was probably my favorite toy ever. Now you may think it is impossible to burn a cake in an oven that uses a light bulb for heat. Wrong. I managed to burn several and myself. My mother finally took the oven from me and put it up until I was a little older. I think she gave it back when I was 18 and moving out of the house.
My mom was an excellent cook and one of those that didn’t really use recipes because she had them in her head. One of those cooks that things tasted better when she cooked them because of she cooked with love, a spice that you can’t buy at the grocery store.
I was pretty much banned from the kitchen because being the “klutz” that I was, accidents just seemed to happen when I was in it. Potholders would catch on fire, counters would have burn marks, ER trips would be necessary because I attempted to cut up something and would end up cutting myself.
In 8th grade my mom strongly suggested I enroll in Home Economics even though I had no interest in it because she hoped that maybe someone else could teach me to cook. I was a straight A student but that year I got my first D and it was in home ec!! Mrs. Mueller, the home ec teacher was kind of a grouchy old lady if I remember correctly. Or it may be that I remember her that way because I was such a poor student. I remember making peanut brittle one day in class. When it came time for each of us to show our end result and have it tasted mine would not come out of the pan. I remember Mrs. Mueller and I outside with the pan turned upside down on the sidewalk pounding on it with a hammer and it still wouldn’t budge. So we ended up throwing away the peanut brittle, pan and all. I remember taking a note home to my parents that day and my mother writing out a check for the pan.
After that I did not even attempt to cook again for several years. But even though I wasn’t responsible for the cooking, I still managed to wreak havoc when I was around a kitchen. I worked at Red’s Deli in Stillwater one summer. I managed to almost slice off the tip of my middle finger one day during the lunch rush because I forgot to use the guard thing. I was talking and cutting and the next thing you know there was blood everywhere. Red had to shut down the lunch service while the staff cleaned the slicer, the counters etc. Someone took me to the ER and a couple of days later Red very nicely told me he thought maybe a job that didn’t involve sharp object might be more my calling.
So I went to work at the local grocery stores bakery section. Where I proceeded to burn myself on the donut rack (ER visit # 1) and then one morning as I was opening the bakery and was there alone at 5 a.m. managed to slice my wrist with a box cutter as I was opening a box of cookie dough.(ER visit #2) I panicked and left the store, not telling anyone where I was going though I am guessing when the store manager and bakery manager saw the blood, the knife, the box of cookie dough and couldn’t find me they guessed. I was too embarrassed to go back after that and so they mailed me my paycheck. I still have the scar on my wrist from that one. The burn marks fade over time. I only worked there for 10 days. Well actually 8 since I was gone 2 of them for ER visits.
In college I worked at a restaurant where I was the worst waitress ever. Greeting the customer, taking the order was manageable. But you couldn’t trust me to carry the food out (propensity for falling for no reason) and after a few times of dropping plates of food, the manager politely told me that maybe I should try secretarial work. I didn’t listen and a few years later while living in Red River NM and working as a waitress I managed to trip over my shoestrings, and dump an entire pot of hot coffee onto the lap of a customer. Luckily, he had on a ski suit and layers of clothing and it didn’t reach his skin. The manager politely took me aside and said maybe I should try a different line of work.
I got the hint after that and have never waitressed or worked in the food service industry again. The world is a safe place again.
When I got married at age 19 I had no cooking skills whatsoever. We ate a lot of soup. Gradually, I got my nerve up to try some cooking. I remember making potato soup from a recipe. It called for a dash of red pepper. I had lots of spices because I had received a spice rack as a wedding gift. I had no idea what a “dash” was so I guessed. When my poor husband took a bite of the soup and nearly went into shock from the “fire” in this mouth I didn’t attempt anything again for quite some time.
Every year at Christmas time as my family gathered for Christmas Eve each of us would bring something to contribute to the snack supper. One year I attempted peanut brittle again with the same result…only this time it was my dad and I trying to beat it out of a pan with a hammer. One year I made popcorn balls and 2 people broke teeth. One year I made NO FAIL fudge that failed. So I called it fudge soup.
And even though when I cook I always set the timer, the key is you have to stay in ear shot of the timer or it really doesn’t do any good. I have put batches of cookies in to bake , set the timer and then forgot and gone outside to mow the yard. Once I put a cake in the oven, got a call from a friend inviting me to dinner, forgot about the cake, and jumped up and ran out of the restaurant when I remembered hoping that my house hadn’t burned down. Now I have a rule for myself. If it goes in the oven, or on the stove for that matter I cannot leave the kitchen for any reason. Period.
Once I baked a cake and then noticed the eggs that the recipe called for still sitting on the counter. Had to have a do-over on that one. And once I attempted to make a cake that looked like a pumpkin. You bake two cakes in bundt cake pans and then put them together. The grooves make it look like a pumpkin when you ice it with orange icing. When the boys came home from school I had my pumpkin cake sitting on the dining table. What is that? Andy asked. Chris said, Duh, it’s a basketball cake” I was just glad it looked like something so I kept my mouth shut. Until Mike came home and said “whats the deal with the orange ball on the table. You think the brown stem with the greenery stuck to it coming out of the top of the pumpkin would have been a clue. If they knew how long it took me to color that empty toilet paper roll with a brown highlighter and super glue my finger twice while applying the greenery they would have understood my hysterical crying as I ran from the room.
My boys used to say they knew when dinner was ready because the smoke alarm would go off. Once after Mike and I divorced, he stopped by early one morning to pick up Andy and when Andy opened the door and the smell of burnt pancakes wafted out to him, called out “I see breakfast is ready”. I didn’t think it funny at the time. Andy for mothers day one year bought me the Perfect Pancake maker, as seen on TV, perfect pancakes everytime. He was so excited when I opened it. Even I could make the perfect pancake with that. NOT! I somehow managed to catch a pancake on fire in the perfect pancake maker.
And even though I have followed the instructions to a t, even had people watch me as I made it to be sure I was doing it right, I have never made JELLO that set up. EVER! When Andy was in Kindergarten they did this card where it said My mom is…..and the kids wrote stuff about their moms to give to us on Mother’s Day. Andy’s said My mom is funny. My mom makes me laugh. My mom can’t make jello. I still have the card.
Over the years I gradually learned to cook and I can say today that I am a really good cook. I am still a klutz in the kitchen. All my potholders have burn marks where I have sat them on a hot burner after I have used them. Most of my plastic spoons and spatulas are not intact, having melted in part when I set them on a hot burner. But the food that I make is actually pretty good because I discovered in learning to cook for my family that magical ingredient my mom used…love. My co-workers love when I make staff breakfasts. I make chicken and noodles for my friends when they are sick and so far none have gotten sicker. I did have the “date” that came for dinner and I never heard from him again but that’s a rare occurrence.
I don’t cook that often because its not that fun to cook for one. But, someday some lucky man will have the benefit of being with someone that not only can cook but likes to cook. Of course, the awesome food they get may not outweigh the stress of the watching me handle sharp objects and be near fire. But then if they date me long enough for me to cook for them they will have learned to love the adventure I bring to any situation.
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