In Which I Try to Cook

Money is a funny thing.  Namely I laugh every time I open up my Bank of America App [sponsorship opportunity available] and review my account balance.  In an effort to save some money, I have finally decided it's time to cook my own meals.  This is a big move, because I've never had confidence as a chef.  I'm actually kind of scared of cooking; thinking about it stresses me out.  You're doing many things at once.  Too many things.  In my case, literally putting out multiple fires.  I AM great at sous-chefing.  I take direction well, and years of pouring and measuring at Montessori school really puts me in this calm zone where I'm hopeful there's naptime shortly after the meal.  But helming my own skillet ship was slightly daunting.

This past Sunday night I decided to just go for it and found a recipe online that basically contained one main ingredient -- chicken.  So my challenge was to cook, AND cook something healthy.  Not sure if you remember this previous post, but let's just say I didn't win the challenge.  Or come in second.  Or place. any. number.  Basically I got the "Total Body Transformation" memo, but went in the opposite direction.  Come on, that many boot camp classes was just too many.  It's outrageous.  But I'm back on the healthy living bandwagon and even went spinning the morning after my 10 year high school reunion.  Ultimately it was the wrong decision, but I felt smug walking around in workout gear and THAT felt wonderful.

Don't worry, I have pre-lowered expectations.

Step 1: I wrote my grocery items on the back of an envelope, because it turns out I'm one of those women who pays for groceries with a check, or just asks their local grocer to add it to their tab.

Step 2: Buy food.  Armed with my reusable grocery bag, because I'm full of love for the earth and myself, I headed to the neighborhood Safeway.  Before entering, I got a call from one of my baes and attempted to maintain a conversation while in mental life delay from spinning.  And alcohol.  Mainly alcohol.  And while searching for very specific items on a list.  This is going to be fun.  The conversation went something like this:

"Yeah, it was so much fun... so much... where the fuck are the toasted sesame seeds?  No, No, I was talking to me... and now I'm talking to --SIR!  SIR!  Hi, hello.  I'm looking for toasted sesame seeds-- no, I'm still here, sorry, yeah that's so funnnnnnaisle four?  And nine?  OR nine.  No, I'm here, four?  OK, you know I'll try them both thank you!  You still there?"

So after a grocery trip that took me around 45 minutes for ~8 items, I came home and set up my laptop in the kitchen.  First thing's first, preheat the oven to 400 degrees. OK, done, didn't screw that up!  Yet!  Now time to prepare the chicken.  2 pounds.  2 pounds of boneless skinless chicken breasts.  I decided to make the suggested 6-person serving for the entire week because I'm going to plan ahead and bring this chicken and my prepared red quinoa (because I am REALLY taking control of my life) to work every day, like a woman who has her shit together and has skincare regimes and has that little purse inside her purse of things you never realized you needed and when you ask that friend for one of those things, SHE ALWAYS has one.

Back to work.  I was tasked  to cut the chicken into bite sized pieces, very subjective, OK but I'll err on the size of small.  Done.  Now what do I do with all of these pieces of raw meat...?  Let me elbow mouse my computer awake.  OK... chicken... done... put the chicken in the mixture of--oh.  You were supposed to make a mixture.  Alright, let me just put this 2 pounds of raw chicken back down and turn on the sink with my elbow.  Ugh I have to grab the soap with my salmonella-y hand -- note to self, Clorox wipe the soap.  Clorox wipe EVERYTHING.  Alright, hands dry, time to make the flour mixture.  1/4 cup flour... pepper and done.  Now, I just need to put the chicken in the bowl and mix this... together...it's a littlllllllle sticky, OK I think it's coated?  Most pieces have flour so I'm going to round up and say yes, coated.  Let me wash my hands, I think there's still flower on my--no that's chicken.  That's gross, that's chicken.

This is when I realized I was supposed to use the soy sauce, chicken broth, sesame oil, rice vinegar and brown sugar for something...  Something.  Oh, right.  The sesame aspect of the sesame chicken.  I start to panic, and my roommate swooped in.  This was after I audibly, instead of mentally exclaimed "OH SHIT."  "Phoebe -- garlic -- minced -- now!"  No, that's not how I asked her, but if I were a ball-bustin' clog-kickin' chef that totally would've been my command.

As Phoebe calmly chopped the garlic, I dumped the 2 pound mound of chicken into a pre-sprayed pan (see, I was on top of SOMETHING) and ran over to grab a bowl and frantically measured each liquid item while peering over at the pan to assess any potential damage.  This may just work.

I finished mixing the sauce and poured that on top of the chicken.  Everything was going according to plan muhahahaha-wait.  Why is the oven on and set to 400 degrees...?  I remember doing this, but I can't remember why...  I Cloroxed my laptop mousepad (most likely not advisable) and keyboard, and scrolled through the recipe.  Ah, I'm supposed to transfer the skillet to the oven to bake the chicken for 20 minutes.  I look back up at the pan and its rubber handle.  Now, I don't know much about science and heat and atom expansion and liquidation, but I do know what happens when you put a plastic measuring spoon in the dishwasher, turn it on, leave for work, have the spoon adhere itself to a heating coil, and your super calls you because your neighbor smelled something burning and called the fire department.

Phoebe could sense my panic, kind of like service dogs and seizures, and I told her we needed a new chicken vehicle for the oven.  She calmly found a Pyrex dish (Why is she so calm?  There are too many things!  The flour bowl, the chicken board, the sauce bowl, the 5 forks strewn about, why did I keep taking out forks?  The pan, the laptop, am I sweating?  I'm sweating.) and helped transfer the almostcookedallthewaythrough(and would be the best diet ever if ingested now) chicken to the dish.  I then popped that in the oven, and took note of the time.

Phoebe and I moseyed to the couch just in time for "Cosmos."  Who else is watching this show?  I hope it's everyone reading this, because my mind hypernova'd at last week's episode about star collapses, big bangs, and black holes.  If you're not watching it for the science, then definitely watch it for the cartoon re-telling of the scientists' greatest achievements.  Or NdGT's final line of the episode "We... are all star dust."  BOOM. BANG. UNIVERSE. STAR DUST.

Speaking of explosion, how about that chicken?  I scurried over to the oven, opened it up and VOI-THE FUCK-LA, it was a thing of beauty.  I (with the help of Phoebe) am chef Phenomenally.  Phenomenal chef, that's me.

Oh wait.  The quinoa.  Right, the quinoa.  OK, side of the box, how to prepare... gotcha.  "Add 1 cup of quinoa and 2 cups of water to pot, bring to boil," whatever, yeah yeah, got it.  But I only wanted to make 1/4 cup dry quinoa because I am a lady with the willpower to suppress her appetite.  So, if my Algebra 3 math is correct... (real class, did so well my parents suggested I apply to MIT.  Good one, parents with an over-inflated sense of child's actual academic ability) I would need to put in a 1/2 cup of water for 1/4 cup of quinoa.  Done.  Dumped that thing in there, brought it to a boil, then brought it to a simmer, and slapped on the lid and went back to the couch.

After about 10 minutes I got up and checked out the quinoa.  "Phoebe, how do I know if this is done?"  I looked at the box: "You will know the quinoa is done when the germ of the kernel is exposed and the red becomes semi-translucent."  Aight Wordsworth, didn't get any of that.  Phoebe and I hovered above the pot and took a small taste.  "It's kind of... crunchy."  "Yeah... but that kind of tastes cool."  "Yeah."  And done, I'm done.  It's done.  I took it off the stove, forked it into a Tupperware container with 3/4 cup of the chicken (sans sesame seeds, damn you Safeway) and was good to go for work.

Before shot:

After shot:

I'm a monster.  A monster who can kiiiiiinda cook.