Culinary Catastrophe

Single girl doesn't cook.

Wait, I should clarify.

In an effort to impress a boyfriend and his friends, six months ago I cooked the most amazing pie. It was a pear, cherry, cinnamon streusel pie and it was like a carb version of baby Jesus. The crust was flaky and light, angelic even. It was handmade with love and the most fattening of European butters. The cherries and pears were tender yet firm. And the streusel? Oh, the streusel. Rolled oats snuggled with melted butter and crumbles of brown sugar, then mixed by hand to create the most lovely crunchy goodness.

(Close mouth. Wipe drool. Keep writing.)

The pie was perfect. Friends were impressed. Boyfriend enjoyed. Perfect.

Months later I tried to create another perfect pie for Thanksgiving and failed miserably. The crust was chewy and tough. The filling was undercooked and I was embarrassed to serve it to my family who thinks French Silk pie from Baker's Square is the best thing out there.

(No judgement French Silk lovers. I think it's pretty delicious too...)

Single again, I find myself trying to figure out what to eat for dinner.  Last week I dined on Chef Boyardee (directly from can), honey mustard pretzel pieces, and gummy bears. Yes, it's sad. I'm embarrassed to event put it "out there".

I took a cooking class a year ago with a friend. It was supposed to be targeted towards those who were intimidated by cooking. We made truffle fries, Chilean sea bass, and chocolate souffle. Really?

The down side (or at least one of them) of being single, is this immediate sense of responsibility to take care of yourself, cook, clean, have a social life, stay fit - and do it all with ease and grace. It's challenging to say the least and just when I have most everything down, something slips through the cracks.

I find myself in a pickle (pun intended!).  I get home from work and the daunting task of creating a meal that tastes good overwhelms me. Last night I went to the grocery store and bought 5 chicken breasts, boil-in-a-bag brown rice, and tomatoes. I'll eat this every night for the next 5 nights. Boring, I know. Technically though, I will have made it all by myself.

On top of this (sort of) new responsibility, many men look for a woman who cooks. Is it horrible to say I'll probably never be that kind of Single Girl?

Perhaps if you know a guy who enjoys cooking and can deal with my quirks he'll be okay with me cracking open a can of Progresso once a week and maybe (just maybe) trying to bake a pie.