I posted awhile back about my inability (read: unwillingness) to cook, and promised to post a few of my attempts at the recipes on the Moodie Foodie app.
The winner of that contest will also be guest-posting, showing off her recipe and probably making me really damn hungry.
So, Mike came to the rescue and has attempted to teach me how to cook properly. Using the app, we found a seafood pasta that matched our mood (there's a good chance I was cranky), and he added extra things because he's a genius of some sort.
I would've taken a screencap of the recipe and/or mood, but I have no idea how to do that on Mike's iPod Touch thingy.
I can't cook and I can't work Apple products, but I'm good at thumb wars. Just you try and tell me I'm not a good catch. I dare ya.
First step to teaching me how to cook?
Trois Pistoles because a higher alcohol percentage is needed to deal with me on a regular basis.
"We love food!" - The Bitches.
Those would be from the shrimp.
I took their outer parts off. I don't know what the outer parts are called. Either way, I did it. And there they are.
Pasta is my addiction, and he knows it.
That guy is a moodie foodie.
Right now, his mood is "requiring more beer to deal with this chick." He shuts me up with food.
What are these weapons of mass destruction?
I think I own some, too. Not sure what to do with them, so I created a percussion-only band.
Multi-tasking seems to be important when cooking.
Pat your head and rub your belly at the same time.
Daisy is super riveted.
Sarcasm aside, I actually was super riveted.
Mike, you're hired.
A seafood pasta that I could now probably not completely screw up if I made it myself, maybe. I'm learning. I swear.
I now know the importance of a perfect sear on a scallop. (No really, that last sentence was in English. Though I've been known to speak Klingon.)
Food makes my face do this. Ouch.