Let me start this post by saying, I am a good cook. Really.
I don’t mean to brag. I’m not opening a four star restaurant any time soon, but I can whip up some pretty good grub most of the time. I especially like the stuff that is considered a little bit tricky. Bechamel sauce, yeast bread, pie crust–stuff you have to blend and knead and heat just right. It’s a little bit following the recipe, and a lot of going by feel. And when all those raw ingredients come together, they turn into something yummy and beautiful. It’s like magic. Well, really it’s like chemistry, but I don’t like to think about it that way because I HATE chemistry.
That’s all to say that I can cook, and I like to do it. Usually for dinners I just go through a rotation of standbys, but every once in awhile, I like to shake things up and try something new.
Last night was such a night. Dun, dun, dun.
Behold, cornmeal crusted tofu:
Wanna get a little closer?
Yeah-haaa-haa. Love me some fried tofu.
In retrospect, the name alone should have been enough of a deterrent, but I was seduced by the power of Oprah and Dr. Oz. The man juggles colons on t.v., for crying out loud. How could he set me up with a bad recipe? And the picture of his tofu looked nothing like mine.
Anyway, I made the meal (along with mashed sweet potatoes, also part of Dr. Oz’s evil plan), and it was a disaster. My husband laughed and my kids were sweet enough to try it and pretend they liked it. Until I took my first taste of tofu and literally spit it out. Yes I did.
Bring on the salami sandwiches.
Still, I’m glad I did it. My motives were pure; I was trying to expand our tastes, and cook with less meat, and that is still my goal. I think I’ll just do it without tofu next time.
Anyone have any cooking disaster stories? My new motto: if you don’t screw up once in awhile, you must not be trying anything different.