Potatoes: 1, Crystal: 0.
All food not of the frozen-dinner variety: 35251512, Crystal: 0.
I cannot cook to save my life. I think the gene for domesticity skips a generation every now and then. I mean, my grandmothers? Excellent cooks. My mom's cooking? Amazing. But me? If it weren't for Ramen noodles and Tom from "Happy Inn" bringing Chinese food right to my door and not charging me the full price, I would never eat.
Of course, if I cut back on my eating, I could buy smaller size jeans and actually fit into ALL the clothes at Forever 21 and not just the flowy ones. Hmm....
Anyway, I found a recipe for homemade potato chips. It was so simple: slice potatoes, throw 'em around a bit in some olive oil, pour on a little kosher salt (which is the best salt in the world), and toss 'em in the oven for twenty minutes.
Thirty minutes later, I get a cookie sheet of completely raw potatoes and potatoes so burnt that they look more like beef jerky than potatoes.
I cannot cook. And we won't even go into the Biscuit Fiasco of 2009, wherein a few pieces of kitchenware died fighting the good fight against Hell's Oven.
At least, with the exception of those damn biscuits, I can bake like a mofo. Seriously. Do you want a cake? Some Statue-of-Liberty torch cupcakes? I can make those, no problem. But, if you're a meat-and-potatoes kind of person, sorry about your luck; I can't help you there. Go see Paula Deen for that shit. I'll be in the kitchen microwaving a Lean Cuisine frozen pasta dinner.
Rachel: Hey, I cook!
Chandler: Offering people gum is not cooking.
- Friends, "The One Where Ross Got High"
If offering people gum isn't cooking, then I'm in BIG trouble.
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