Cookin

On average, the chances of me making something edible are about 50%. Don't get me wrong, I try like hell, but at the end of the day, Papa Bear kicks my ass at the kitchen.

Which, for the most part, is fine with me. Occasionally he starts acting like he's a food network star and "kicks things up a notch". Like that time he made "stuffed meatloaf" which included leftover spanish rice, 10 garlic cloves and mozzarella in the center.

Ask me about that sometime.

So I figured on Fridays I could start sharing some of my culinary successes and dismal failures from the week.

(I should mention that all of the failures are my own damn fault and are in no way a representation of the person who thought up these yummy recipes. I just suck that much.)

Papa Bear will tell you there are a few things I'm consistently good at; breakfast food, banana-blueberry bread and banana cream pie. My sisters like my meatballs but I've lost meatball making privilege in our house to Emeril.

This week I made a banana cream pie which is a giant joke. I make about 30 of these a month and it takes a whole ten minutes.

Here's the recipe:

- Graham cracker crust - the big one, that's already made because I can't make a good crust and who has time for that.

- Box of cook and serve vanilla pudding - must be cook, not instant!
- Milk

- Four bananas

Directions: Cut up three bananas and place in pie crust. Cook the pudding according to the box. Pour it over cut up bananas. Add last banana (cut up) on top of pudding and throw her in the fridge for a while.

Voila! Real hard right? Papa Bear loves these things and will sometimes polish off the entire pie for his midnight snack. So I'm clearly doing something right and who am I to withhold a good banana cream pie?

Here's my failure this week. 

The Pioneer Woman's - Quesadilla des Camarones

I totally used the wrong sauce for these and the "giant gulf shrimp" I bought tasted like they took the long way up North from New Orleans. They must have been a month old. And no, they didn't smell weird.

I suppose that's what I get for going to the small chain grocery store.

I totally had to pretend I was enjoying the meal because let's be honest, I couldn't give Papa Bear the satisfaction of knowing that I thought it sucked too. I also had to pout a little and pretend like I was upset with Matt for not liking dinner when I "tried so hard to make something different".

I know he fed his to the dogs when I left the room.

He's been asking me for some more "Quesadilla des Camarones" all week. 

Shit head.

There you have it folks. I'd definitely try the quesadilla's again but probably not when Papa Bear is home for dinner. It's just embarrassing when we both have to eat cereal after I spent a solid hour making something terrible and wrecking the kitchen.