To preface my later posts, I would like to give some insight to my early attempts to cook, perhaps to show my progression. Shortly after "growing up", I was 17, my parents left town for a couple of days and left me in charge of my 3 younger siblings (ages 7, 8 and 16). One night, after all the take out money had been spent and we were all hungry, I decided to give cooking a shot. How hard could it be?
I put on a my big girl pants and decided to make some Mac n' Cheese. Just stir in some packaged cheese, milk and butter with the noodles. Simple, right? Wrong. I felt like everything had gone well and was pretty proud of myself while dishing everyone up a lovely, delicious bowl of my Mac N' Cheese. But as the first bites took place, I noticed that the bites became slower, and less.
"What?" I said, "what's wrong with it?" exasperated and angry. "Too much butter," Christina said. "Too much milk," Nicole added. "Yeah," agreed young Kevin. "Well, I like it! You don't have to eat it!" I said as I sat down at the table to eat my delightful Mac N' Cheese. Then, I heard cereal being poured and saw T.V. dinners being thrust into the microwave.
At the end of the night, there was still a lot of Mac N' Cheese to be eaten... that never was.
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