I don’t know what is happening, but lately…my cooking has gone to the dogs. Actually I don’t even think dogs would eat what’s coming out of my kitchen.
Here’s what I mean:
Two attempts at steel cut oats: one stovetop, the other in the slowcooker and both a colossal failure. I’m talking about sludgy, rubbery oatmeal that no one, and I mean no one, should be forced to look at let alone eat.
One attempt at home-made biscuits: from a recipe other people have made successfully and I somehow bake into cement discs. They’re so brick hard I could donate them for use in Olympic discus competitions. Or maybe skeet shooting.
One episode of chicken
cacciatore carnage: an experience I’d rather forget and you’d rather not know about.
Three attempts to make banana bread: from a recipe I’ve used successfully hundreds of times yet each loaf is rubbery and blegh.
I could go on but my point is this: I’m a great cook.
And I enjoy cooking and baking immensely. Which makes these failures so much more disappointing.
I cook and bake as much as possible from scratch. Homemade tastes better and it’s healthier. Even from-scratch baked goods are healthier than than your store-bought options.
No, it’s not that I’ve suddenly become a terrible cook. It’s that I’m distracted. I have a little human weaving herself between my legs as I try to get supper going. When I cook on the weekends (while DD naps), I’m also trying to get a hundred other things done around the house: laundry, bills, organizing, tidying, etc.
My guess is these kitchen disasters are from a lack of ability to devote my full attention to the task at hand. That’s my guess anyway. It’s just weird that after years and years of whipping together meals and tasty treats, I’ve somehow lost my edge.
Maybe it’s all a coincidence. A weird and random it-doesn’t-matter-what-I-make-it-turns-out-crap coincidence.