In the past I haven’t exactly been known for my domestic abilities. I like to think I am turning over a new leaf this year – I have been cooking quite a bit. And I have to note that it hasn’t been half bad, in fact my significant other has been quite impressed with some of my meals (thank you Rachael Ray). We decided to have my boyfriend’s family over for dinner last night as his sister, her daughter and her husband are in town from Toronto. Our household, plus parents and guests equaled 8. I have never cooked for 8 people before but thought it would be no big deal. Well well. First of all I get stressed out when I have to cook, especially for people I’m not used to having over. I had no idea what to make with a whole 24 hours notice of the dinner. Thankfully one of my beloved co-workers saved the day once again. This woman is an AMAZING cook. If I could marry her I would. Her husband is one lucky guy. She gave me some butter chicken sauce that she had whipped up and gave me the idea to do an Indian themed dinner. I went with the theme and ran.
This is what I envisioned: For an appy we would have Pappadums (lentil based Indian chips) followed by a meal of green salad, samosas with mango chutney and basmati rice with the butter chicken. To finish, dessert would be coconut ice cream with fresh strawberries. Easy peasy right? Let’s just say Murphy made his laws based on my life. If something can go wrong it will and at the most inopportune times. First of all I forgot the sauce at work. I realized only when I went to start cooking the chicken half an hour before we were going to eat. I had to drive all the way back to work and get it. Also, for some reason the rice was super mushy even though we followed the package directions to a T. I’m not talking just a little mushy either, it was completely stuck together so you couldn’t even fluff it – it made that creepy sound when I stirred it – YUCK! After informing everyone that it wasn’t me who cooked the rice (technically my boyfriend put the rice on) I proceeded to hide the disaster under the chicken which actually turned out really well.
The moral of the storey is that my co-worker saved my ass and I should never cook again. Or I should order take out and put it in my own containers and pretend to take it out of the oven as the guests walk in. Thank god for wine which numbed the pain of my cooking experience!