Too much BIG PICTURE, so lets write about smoke

When I looked at my blog the other day, I noticed that every post had some big, enormous point to it. And so, I felt the need to create one with something a little less deep. So, I'll talk about my experiences cooking so far.

Living on my own, I've pretty much come to the conclusion that cooking is dangerous and therefore should be left to either a female or a professional chef. I believe that sometime in the future my perceptions will change, but for now, I am firmly grounded in the idea that anything that has something to do with the stove in my apartment involves more risk of bodily injury than I care to take.

After a rocky start for the first few months (pizzas, pot pies, and ramen noodles), which taught me to take the cardboard from underneath the pizza, I decided to make tacos and purchased to neccessary items from the store and drove home. When I unloaded and set everything out, I realized that I had forgotten the lettuce. Undeterred, I put the beef on the stove and put taco shells (for a salad) into the oven. I was very careful to check on the beef and shells periodically until the phone rang.

It was my dad, and I kept stirring the beef as we talked for about ten minutes or so. That's when I realized that I had forgotten all about the taco shells. I said goodbye and cracked open the oven door. I then closed the door, disarmed to smoke alarm, and THEN opened the oven door. The ensuing smoke cloud forced me to open the windows and take in the insulating plastic off to get the place aired out.

I finished with that and turned around to see that the beef was black as night. In my haste to clear the room, I had left the beef untended and burned it to a crisp. I salvaged what I could from the shells and dumped loads of sour cream, salsa,and cheese onto the blackened beef and ate it anyway.

And to add the final crescendo to the evening, I found then that I left the bag of cheese on the burner that I had used to flame the beef. The bag had a circular indentation of melted plastic and cheese.

Melted plastic, melted cheese, black beef, burnt taco shells, no lettuce, and a ton of smoke.

This is why I consider cooking to be an extreme sport, and one far too risky for me. I'll leave it to the professionals.