Rather ridiculously, I hadn’t ever cooked a whole chicken until Friday of last week. I have no idea why. I’ve been involved in many a home-cooked meal where the whole of a chicken has been prepared, flavoured stuff rammed up its arse and put into a hot cubbyhole for an hour and a bit. But I’d never actually done it myself until last week.
I also hadn’t ever cooked a fried egg using a pan to cover it until today. I’m 28. I also learned that technique from Metal Gear Solid 4. No lie. It’s still taken me many a year to actually bother doing it, mind you. Odd times.
What am I getting at? No idea – not like many of these blogs have strong narrative arcs. I suppose it’s something about how, even though I’m pushing 30 and am capable and able when it comes to cooking, it doesn’t mean I’ve done anywhere near all of the ‘normal’ stuff you might associate with culinary practices.
This is mainly because I am a deeply lazy person, incapable of being able to muster up enough enthusiasm to open a tin of tuna (that’s already open), nevermind put something in a hot metal box for more than an hour.
I mean – do you know how long more than an hour is? It’s a long-assed time to have to wait for food. No, I’m much happier with putting shit in a microwave and nuking it for a couple of minutes. Problem there is I don’t have a microwave. Damn world.
There’s the narrative for this entry, then: I want a microwave so I can eat worse food.