only backgroundI'm a wife, mother and grandmother. I'm opinionated. I contradict myself frequently. Most of all, I love my kids. I believe in them. I fight for them. They're weird and wonderful. If you want to know more, here's a bunch of other stuff from my old site.
Hopeless In The Kitchen
- by Marisa
- May 28, 2008
Confession: When I met my husband, cooking meant opening a can of soup, adding water and heating on the stove. That was all I knew how to do. The first time I tried to cook chicken, I took one look at the raw meat in the package and could simply not figure out how I was going to get it to be brown and crispy.
My dad came to the rescue, walking me through the steps of making homemade spaghetti sauce. It was damn good, too. That gave me the confidence I needed to start experimenting. And I did.
One day I called my dad, excited beyond belief. I described in detail how I’d browned chicken, added onions, green peppers, garlic and my own homemade sauce. Then, in a stroke of genius, I tossed in a few splashes of wine and simmered. My husband loved and I was truly amazed that I had “invented” this mouth watering creation.
My pride was short lived, however. As soon as I described my recipe, my dad said, “Well, that’s Chicken Parmigiani! You didn’t invent that.”
I was crushed. For a brief moment, I imagined this wonderful dish being named for me. (Hey, I was young!) Once I shook the disappointment I realized that the experience was totally awful. If I could come up with a tried and true, much loved recipe on my own then maybe I wasn’t such a bad cook after all. It turned out that I was a pretty good cook and still am. Now, if I could just figure out how to bake a cake, my family would be thrilled!
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