There are two things in this world that my hubby loves to eat that I cannot cook worth a darn:
My mom can cook both of these to perfection, but obviously that gene passed me by, because I most definitely did NOT inherit her potato/egg abilities. Boo.
My fried potatoes always start out well, but usually turn into crunchy potato chip-like substances. I have a hunch this happens because I use too much oil, but I attempt to make them so rarely that I can never remember how much to use. Hence we end up with hard, crunchy fried potatoes. It’s very sad, because we both love them so.
And eggs….my oh my, where to even begin. I am terrible at knowing egg terminology, like sunny side up and eggs over easy and all that jazz. If I can’t even get the lingo down, how can I ever cook them correctly?! I like mine hard, no runny yucky stuff whatsoever, so I have that part mastered. Unfortunately, Jon likes his runny. Very runny. (Ugh. I gag just thinking about it.) “But not slimy,” he always says. Right. No problem. I realized after my last attempt at cooking his eggs that I don’t know which part the slimy instructions refers to: the yolk or the white part? I attempted his last order of eggs three times. I’ve come to the conclusion that my eggs may very well lead him to an early death due to salmonella poisoning. Poor Jon. I’ve since given up. And now we all enjoy lovely, fluffy scrambled eggs on a regular basis, because I CAN cook those at least.
Some would say practice makes perfect. I would say that practice means that our dogs get extra human food on a regular basis.