Today’s post isn’t a recipe, but a reminder.
Because sometimes we need a reminder that everyone has bad days. And that everyone burns dinner from time to time.
Even people who blog about food.
Actually, especially people who blog about food. For every pretty picture you see on the internet there were dozens of failed attempts before the colors, flavors and cooking times all lined up.
Which, for the most part, is really fun, and that’s why I do it.
But sometimes I struggle when my brilliant ideas don’t pan out. Or, even worse, when my tried and true stand by’s betray me.
Which they do…. more than I care to admit.
You see, for some ridiculous reason I worry that people hold me to a higher standard when it comes to cooking because of this delicious little piece of internet I call my own.
But the truth is, I’m not a trained chef. I didn’t go to culinary school, and I’ve never really thought of myself as a “expert” on the subject of food.
I’m just a girl with a camera and a kitchen (and way too many cooking show DVDs) who likes talking about food!
All that…. to say that I burnt dinner last night.
I burnt it real good.
You know when you’re drinking a cup of coffee and with every sip a little drips from the lid, slowly finding its way to your lap, but for the life of you you can’t find where it’s coming from?
You try twisting the top, covering the suspected breach with your finger… but nothing stops that little dribble.
Well, yesterday was one metaphorical coffee drip after another for me. The final showing itself as a carrot shaped piece of charcoal in my crock pot.
Before leaving for work I filled my crock pot with, what promised to be, a delicious and healthy dinner. I left feeling quite proud of myself for being done with dinner (and dishes, thank you very much) before the day even really started.
Upon my return, expecting to be greeted by the sweet aroma of deliciously slow cooked chicken and carrots…I walked into what smelled like a house sized ashtray.
I hadn’t put enough liquid in the crock pot.
My first thought was “ok, maybe it’s salvageable, butter makes anything delicious.”
Not a chance in you-know-where.
So, I brushed off my knees, took a look in my pantry and what do you know…. I whipped up a pretty good second dinner.
Not to shabby, eh?
(And yes, I will be sharing the recipe with you soon. It saved my tail and I’d like to think it can save yours one day too.)
All this to remind you (and myself) that we all mess up.
We all burn dinner.
Or sew an arm shut in our kids Halloween costume.
Or show up to work with coffee drips on our lap.
And that’s ok, all you gotta do is check your pantry, and try again. 🙂