I can ‘cook’ pasta, noodles, rice, chicken and one pan rice dishes (chicken and rice together). So basically I can boil water and turn the oven on. Isn’t George super lucky?
What I lack in range I make up for in consistency; I consistently make noodles for dinner every night for two weeks.
But from time to time I push the boat out and try to make something a bit more than a boil-able carbohydrate. A jazzy cheesecake (that ended up more like angel delight on a digestive biscuit), chocolate brownies (that didn’t cook in the middle) and a jacket potato (that, like the brownie, didn’t cook in the middle).
Long story short it always ends in me looking at the fruits of my labour and saying “but I did exactly what the recipe said…
… why is the middle liquid?”
… why is it that colour?”
… why does it look like something from Lord of the Rings?”
It doesn’t take a genius to work out that I shouldn’t be left unsupervised in the kitchen but over excited about the bank holiday weekend, I decided that I was going to make fudge and distribute it to everyone – I’m nice like that – however, if I distributed this fudge I could cause some serious oesophagus damage, and that wouldn’t be nice at all.
Fudge consists of sugar, golden syrup, clotted cream and vanilla extract.
When you’re lacking cooking skills to the extent that I am, a four ingredient recipe (where one ingredient is vanilla extract so basically doesn’t count) where you put everything in a pan and mix it is the dream.
But somehow I even managed to cock that up.
The measuring and mixing was fine if you exclude the golden syrup spillage. So far, so good – I can successfully pour sugar and pour vanilla extract onto a teaspoon.
Then you’ve got to let it boil and then take it off the heat when it reaches 116 degrees. How am I supposed to know what 116 degree fudge is when I don’t have any jazzy equipment?
I concluded it was bubbling so it must be hot – right?
As I poured it into the tray I presumed the sticky, syrup like texture would suddenly become light and fluffy when setting.
Unfortunately that was not the case.
I’ve been left with a clotted cream flavoured, rock hard block of toffee that I can’t even get out of the baking tray.
If anyone needs a tooth removing but doesn’t want to pay a dentist give me a shout.
So once again, I’m left asking myself “but I did exactly what the recipe said…”