disclaimer or something

A mummy-hand holding, (former) biker gang affiliating, hippie influenced semi crunchy granola mom's ramblings and reminisings on an off-kilter life

Friday, March 1, 2013

Why I don't cook

Sometimes hubby complains that I don't cook much. I should cook more because he works 14, 16 hour days more often than not. He is totally right.

However, in my defense, there are reasons I don't cook. Tonight, I was all excited...pizza night! Sure, gluten rips me a new ***hole, literally, but sometimes one must suffer for their favorite food. No pain no gain, right? So I let the dough rise as hubby got ready to cook. But then hubby got an email that essentially said, you will be working till 2:00 am when India starts and then 6:00 am when NYC comes on. All weekend. So get to it! So I was the kitchen fairy tonight.

So I was like, I'm gonna do this. I'm making pizza. I have pre made dough and toppings and...it's on! I even cleaned part of the kitchen and was ready to be Suzy Homemaker and clean the damned house too. It needs it. Then I had an asthma attack from hell. After recovering, I was still gonna be Suzy, dammit. I was determined.

The pepperoni went missing but I found it after 15 minutes of looking. Then I went to do the dough but the rolling pin was, still is, missing. No prob, Bob, I told myself. The directions say you can stretch OR roll it into a 12" disc. Makes sense. Wiggle the round ball into, well, pizza. I can do play dough. I can do this.

I tried. I tried some more. I googled and you tubed to see how to do it after a few failures. Then I tried some more. I can do this! I am woman! I have a gifted intellect! I can make this kitchen my *****!

Then I decided I am going to cry. And give up. And I did. My son can eat a microwaved hot dog. I will have some yogurt. I will quietly toss a pop tart at my busy husband.

'Cause this is my 6" shy attempt number 10 or so at pizza dough. With pre made dough. After almost an hour of trying. I surrender, you evil dough bastard. Call
me a bad wife, I don't care. Case in point...my shameful evidence...which my best friend says looks like some new species of fungus.


  1. This sounds like my attempts at cooking!

  2. What's that premade pizza crust that was so popular a decade ago? Use that! There are even gluten-free ones that are more like cracker crust than pizza crust, but it's better than nothing.

    If it makes you feel any better, we had a make your own pizza party for my 12th birthday, and my mom (being from Germany) had never done it before, nor had I. We didn't FLATTEN the dough at all, and the oven turned into the inside of a popcorn popper - plus tomato sauce and cheese drippings. We never did eat, and I don't think stayed friends with any of those girls.

  3. Wow. That picture says it all. I used to make our own pizza dough when we first got married -- many, many years ago. Then I found my husband didn't really like the big chewy crust. Even now he orders Pizza Hut thin crust. So I don't do that anymore. I sometimes use those premade crusts like Kristin suggested. Good luck.

  4. Oh dear! I hate cooking attempts that end up in tears and no food. And I also have a hard-working husband who needs feeding, so I keep trying to feed him. My crock pot is my bestie!

  5. That's exactly why I don't cook, either. Plus, I don't like touching raw meat and my husband is a Midwestern steak-and-potatoes kind of guy!

  6. Salt it, bake it, call it a soft pretzel and serve it with fancy mustard. Who's gonna know it was "supposed" to be pizza? :)

    1. I like the way Jen thinks.

  7. I want to be a cook but I'm not. My husband is a great cook but I have to do it during the week since he doesn't get home in time. I thought when I quit working two years ago, I'd cook. But I guess I have to admit that I don't really like to.

  8. Oh man, stupid, dumb pizza crust. Cooking that makes you cry totally sucks.