Lest you worry that now with the weight-loss blog and the reading blog that I might be spreading myself a bit thin (and if you are worrying about that, let me recommend a hobby, mkay?), I assure that if nothing else, I will never, ever start a cooking blog.
I just can't cook. Can't. Can't. Can't.
I try. Really, I do. But sadly, I generally come up with something that looks nothing like the picture in the cookbook and tastes only vaguely like food.
I have been *cooking* at least 3-4 nights a week since the new kitchen was finished and I have to admit, even though the end result could rarely be rated any higher than "edible", I do love the process of preparing a meal. I just wish the intention behind it translated to the finished product.
Husband insists that it's because I attempt fancy dishes on a Tuesday, when really Tuesday should be, I don't know, meatloaf. Nevermind the fact that I have no idea how to make a meatloaf, why shouldn't I try to make a paella? Without a recipe? In 20 minutes?
Oh dear god, it's so embarrassing.