So I don't cook. I sometimes think I probably could, but then I usually just don't risk it. Why? You may wonder... because I have stories like the following in my repertoire:
When I was a teenager I was at home and my mom was cooking in the kitchen. She had to go somewhere but had onions she just started to fry on the stove. She says to her daughter, who hates onions and had never cooked them ever, to watch them for her while she was gone. I said, "Mom, I don't know what I'm doing, I don't know how to cook onions!" and in a frustrated state she said, "Just WATCH them!" and she left.
I watched. I watched them for a while. I watched them burn to a crisp.
Needless to say, she was NONE TO PLEASED when she got home to her black onions. My only defense, "I told you I didn't know how to cook onions, watching them doesn't change that."
I'm wondering if I have blogged this story before... it seems familiar to me. BUT let's be honest, not a lot of people read this blog, and most probably haven't read that post anyway. So THERE you have it folks.!
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