Battleground: Kitchen

Friends, Family, People Who Don't Actually Know Me But Read My Blog--

I have just returned from battle. And, of course, by battle, I mean the kitchen. I'm sure I've mentioned here once or twice that I don't cook. Not only do I not really know how to cook, but I really don't enjoy it. I don't like reading recipes, I don't like reading about people who cook, and I don't like the look on Joel's face when I try to cook, collapse into a fit of tears when I realize the eggs are sticking to damn pan again, those were our last three eggs, and now what the hell are we going to eat for breakfast because I've been told I'm only allowed to spend $200 on groceries once a week!!

What the kitchen looks like after I cook

However, my busy season at work is officially upon us, and when I'm really busy at work, I like to make a meal that will last us several days. When I get home around 8 or 9 from a long day of work, the last thing I want to do is open the refrigerator 600 times hoping that a meal will mysteriously appear or make Joel cook for the 5th time this week or order pizza again. I do have a few easy dinners in my repertoire, and they all consist of throwing a bunch of sh*t into a casserole dish, putting it in the oven for an hour, and hoping to God that I remembered all of the ingredients, didn't burn in, and that it tastes somewhat decent. Joel is a good man and has never complained about anything I've attempted to cook so I'm guessing I'm not a complete train wreck when I do try.

What my lasagna should look like (fingers crossed)

Except her cleavage is better.

I say that, but the outcome is usually better than the journey. The journey is train wreck after train wreck. Tonight, I made Portabella Lasagna. (I think I got this recipe from Jamie, so I gotta give credit where credit is due!) We try not to eat carbs in our house (I SAID TRY), so I use portabella mushroom instead of noodles. It's quite delicious. But, of course, I didn't get all the right ingredients. I mean I did, just not enough. So I threw some cream cheese in there with the ricotta. That's about the same family, right? Also, I'm not smart enough to just buy the damn pre-made spaghetti sauce, so in an attempt to make my own, I made the most gigantic mess ever, splattered red sauce all over my new shirt, burned my fingers (sticking your fingers into the sauce is not an effective way to test heat), and my mouth (also, tasting the sauce mid-heat isn't a great idea). 

Alas, I finally slopped it all together and threw it in the oven before ruining it too much. Then I got the idea to use the leftover stuff to make mini lasagnas in muffin tins. So I start to prepare those and realize that the leftover sauce was gone because a--I ate most of it, and b--CD walked into the room and ate the rest (I may or may not have given him the pan thinking it'd be easier to clean after he licked it). At that point, I had no choice but to eat the remaining cheese mixture too. (It had egg in it, but it was an organic, free range, grass fed egg, so surely I can't get too sick.) So here's hoping the lasagna doesn't get burned or dropped before Joel gets home, and I even did the dishes and cleaned my mess. I am becoming a f*cking domestic goddess before my own eyes!