Pickle Explosion

I do not really enjoy cooking.  It takes time and is messy.  And only half of the family will like any given meal, so there's always a complainer.

Today, I decided to be a good wife and mother and make a casserole for dinner so that it would be ready for the boys after Reed's baseball game and so that I could have leftovers after City Council.  I even used leftovers, so I should just about be translated.  The grand finale was a sprinkling of cheese on top.  I reached into the refrigerator to get the cheese and the Half-and-Half container jumped off the shelf.  When I went to grab it, I apparently nudged the gigantic Costco-sized jar of dill pickles.  They plunged to their death on the unforgiving slate floor. 

So, then I had to clean up the regular cooking mess PLUS the evil pickle disaster.

Did I mention that I don't even like dill pickles?

Quartz VS Pot

Someday, I am going to be a great cook.  Maybe.

My Nana was a great cook- everything that she made was delicious and the epitome of comfort food.  Her bread was fabulous and she was just about famous for it.  She died one morning of a burst aneurysm in her brain. . . while she was making bread.  I always have loved that she died doing what she loved. 

My Mom on the other hand, was not much of a cook.  Probably because she never had to when she was growing up.  She was good at no-bake butterscotch cookies and raspberry squares, but she didn't like cooking and just wasn't that great at it.  The good news was that my dad was decent in the kitchen and he made dinner at least 75% of the time.  I must admit that Friday was my favorite day, though.  We ALWAYS went out for dinner on Friday night.  I loved it.

Now there's me.  I can bake bread and I can cook, but I don't really enjoy it most of the time.  I am LOUSY at following a recipe (or a pattern or any other instructions, for that matter) and so my favorite celebrity cook is Rachel Ray.  I have learned a lot from her and I really appreciate her "go for it" method of cooking. When I cook RR Style, it is usually a hit with my family.

So. . . today I got the urge to cook and to use up some left overs that we had.  I didn't have any incidents while making the pasta salad although the dogs were awfully interested in the bacon.  Then I made Sampson beans which is a bunch of different cans of beans, some hamburger, and some seasonings.  Shouldn't be hard, huh.  All was well until I sat down in Ed's chair after carrying a basket into our bedroom.  I swear his chair has a dopamine injector in it.  I promptly fell asleep. . . but only for about 10-15 minutes.  I woke up and darted for the kitchen because I knew the beans were on high.  (Ed says that I only cook on high, but it's not true.  I also use off.)  I was afraid they were burned, so I pulled them off onto the counter which is made of quartz and which we were told when it was purchased that I could put hot stuff on it.  I turned around to put the pasta salad in a bowl and I jumped a mile when I heard a large "crack".  Parker heard it and came running, too.  I knew instantly that the &8%* counter had cracked.  Luckily it is a small crack and is hard to find. 

Next time I am getting concrete countertops.  And cooking lessons.