On some days, I wonder why some things even exist. Today, the word "overcooked" is on the chopping block.
Prior to the wedding, my thoughtful friends and relatives advised me that I should turn to pasta when all else fails. However, these semi-kind friends and relatives forgot to tell me that when pasta is overcooked, everyone and everything becomes unhappy.
My husband becomes unhappy. I become unhappy. The pot I cooked my pasta in is unhappy. My clogged strainer becomes unhappy. I become even more unhappy because I have to clean the said pot and clogged strainer.
These so-called friends and relatives also forgot to mention a crucial detail: That "always firm pasta" exists. One afternoon, my mother finally told me about this magical pasta that doesn't get mushy--even when overcooked! Of course, I first had to serve her and the rest of my family an extremely, embarrassingly mushy pasta dish for her to remember to mention it to me.
I am happy to say that since that fateful day, my battle with overcooked noodles has been won. Unfortunately, my battle with meat is a completely different story.
I am annoyingly careful of the fact that I don't serve my husband dishes with uncooked meat. Every now and then, I grab a knife and fork and see if the meat is no longer bloody and if it is ready to be deemed edible.
My problem is this: In my exaggerated efforts to ensure that my meat is cooked, I always manage to cook it a little too long. Why is this? Is it because when I bite into the slightly rubbery meat, I think that it is still raw when it is actually already done? Is it because after my nth attempt at checking the meat, I decide to keep it on the stove for just "a little while longer?"
Is it possible to purchase magical meat that promises to "always stay tender and perfectly cooked?" If so, I'd really love it if someone would tell me.
Monday, January 9, 2012
Thursday, December 1, 2011
Brand New and Headstrong
The day after the wedding, the hubby and I came home to our home for the first time as Mister and Missus.
After hours of unpacking the first batch of wedding gifts and various boxes from home, we were pooped and very much ready to hit the sack. Then we realized that we were both extremely filthy, and neither of us wanted to sleep on our (brand new!) bed, mattress, pillows and sheets without taking a shower.
The solution should've been easy--except we realized that we didn't bring any towels from our (former) homes. That was our first problem. I mentioned to the hubby that we received a number of towels as wedding gifts, and he thought that it was just as good a time as any to use our (brand new!) washing machine and dryer.
The hubby bought a small sachet of detergent from the 7-11 located at the ground floor of the building. He then brought out the manual to the washing machine and proceeded to figure out the settings. I sat at the very edge of the bed and patiently waited for a towel. It was about 10pm.
The towels came out of the washing machine about an hour and a half later. Our next problem was that the towels were still soaking wet. The hubby popped the towels into the dryer and picked one of the quickest settings on the machine.
At some point, I dozed off. Yes, my filthy self was curled up at the very corner of the bed. About an hour later, the dryer sang its joyful tune. The hubby opened the dryer to find the towels...soaking wet. I vaguely remember the hubby waking me up to report that he was going to put the towels back in the dryer for a little while longer.
How did this sad little story pan out? Well, the hubby woke up my attractive, snoring self at about 1:30am with a towel in hand. It was slightly damp, but I didn't care.
After recounting our first-night-at-the-condo-adventure to family and friends over the next few days, several people told us that they would have just used the towels as they originally were: unwashed, stinky and fresh from the box.
Oh, yeaaaah. Why didn't we think of that?
After hours of unpacking the first batch of wedding gifts and various boxes from home, we were pooped and very much ready to hit the sack. Then we realized that we were both extremely filthy, and neither of us wanted to sleep on our (brand new!) bed, mattress, pillows and sheets without taking a shower.
The solution should've been easy--except we realized that we didn't bring any towels from our (former) homes. That was our first problem. I mentioned to the hubby that we received a number of towels as wedding gifts, and he thought that it was just as good a time as any to use our (brand new!) washing machine and dryer.
The hubby bought a small sachet of detergent from the 7-11 located at the ground floor of the building. He then brought out the manual to the washing machine and proceeded to figure out the settings. I sat at the very edge of the bed and patiently waited for a towel. It was about 10pm.
The towels came out of the washing machine about an hour and a half later. Our next problem was that the towels were still soaking wet. The hubby popped the towels into the dryer and picked one of the quickest settings on the machine.
At some point, I dozed off. Yes, my filthy self was curled up at the very corner of the bed. About an hour later, the dryer sang its joyful tune. The hubby opened the dryer to find the towels...soaking wet. I vaguely remember the hubby waking me up to report that he was going to put the towels back in the dryer for a little while longer.
How did this sad little story pan out? Well, the hubby woke up my attractive, snoring self at about 1:30am with a towel in hand. It was slightly damp, but I didn't care.
After recounting our first-night-at-the-condo-adventure to family and friends over the next few days, several people told us that they would have just used the towels as they originally were: unwashed, stinky and fresh from the box.
Oh, yeaaaah. Why didn't we think of that?
Monday, November 28, 2011
Undomesticated
I stepped into this marriage completely undomesticated. It's been three months now, and all I can say is that I've still got a LOT to learn.
One thing I am proud of is that I (attempt to) cook most of our weekday meals. Me: A person who, three months ago, had 0.0000001% cooking skills. At the very least, my attitude towards the kitchen has changed.
I'm not so scared of the kitchen anymore, nor am I as scared of using a knife. My heart no longer palpitates every time I need to think about what to serve the hubby for dinner. My food isn't exactly great, but at least it's edible. It's been three months, and we've had no (serious) cases of food poisoning.
Wifey Chronicles was created to document this never ending learning process of domestication I am going through. Being a missus is quite an adventure, and I can't imagine ever running out of things to talk about.
Cheers!
One thing I am proud of is that I (attempt to) cook most of our weekday meals. Me: A person who, three months ago, had 0.0000001% cooking skills. At the very least, my attitude towards the kitchen has changed.
I'm not so scared of the kitchen anymore, nor am I as scared of using a knife. My heart no longer palpitates every time I need to think about what to serve the hubby for dinner. My food isn't exactly great, but at least it's edible. It's been three months, and we've had no (serious) cases of food poisoning.
Wifey Chronicles was created to document this never ending learning process of domestication I am going through. Being a missus is quite an adventure, and I can't imagine ever running out of things to talk about.
Cheers!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)