Every so often I attempt to indulge my inner domestic goddess, only to discover that I have no such goddess lurking within me. Today, on the coldest and snowiest day of 2011 thus far, I engaged in one such unsuccessful attempt. And all I have to show for it is a phone broken into several unfortunate pieces and a pound of burnt brussel sprouts.
Yes, after returning from an exciting two hour tutoring gig, in which I discovered how much I loathe Louis Pasteur for experimenting on small children, I entered my apartment ready to engage in a Pandora-led round of cooking of cleaning.
While the cleaning– my traditional area of expertise– went swimmingly well, the same cannot be said of my cooking. Though I have purchased a myriad of recipe books and taken a series of cooking classes, I still find myself failing in my culinary conquests more than the perfectionist in me would like to admit.
And I emphasize the word “cooking, ” as my Halloween cupcakes baked for the PS 234 bake sale actually resemble the kind Tribeca moms would spent $4.00 a piece on. Give me carbs, and I promise to provide a round of caloric delights. But put some leafy greens in front of me, and I somehow manage to set the apartment on fire. Or, as I did the other week, get vegetable broth on the kitchen ceiling.
It takes a special talent to be as developmentally slow at cooking as I am, but I believe I have figured out my downfall: multi-tasking. While I am woman (hear me roar!), and should be able to juggle several tasks at once, there are exceptions to every rule. One of which is cooking.
Every time I attempt to grill some veggies and update my Twitter feed at the same time, my veggies go from grilled to charcoaled. And today, while trying to brown my brussel sprouts, I called my mother. While I suspected she would answer, I was still somewhat shocked at how quickly she answered.
And as a result, I dropped a brussel sprout, which I then tripped on when I went to redeem it from the cold wooden floor. In tripping, I lost both my balance and my phone, the latter of which shattered into five separate pieces.
The lesson is two-fold: 1) When I cook, I need to devote all my attentions to the task at hand– creating a semi-edible meal. And 2) I need to be a career woman, preferably one married to a chef. Because this housewife schpiel, while acceptable for Halloween weekend, is completely absurd any other time of the year.