When I was very young, my mother’s friend gave her a recipe for lasagna. Starting at age 18, I began making it myself and followed the recipe strictly (I thought). Therefore, I was surprised that every time I made it, I set the oven on fire. My mother’s lasagna did not cause flames to leap out the oven door! One of the fires occurred when I made an ambitious double-batch. Somehow, I always forgot about the previous fire until the next one happened. I finally caught on to use a little less sauce and a catch-pan.
I also remember killing a big batch of portabella mushrooms many years ago. A family member had served them grilled. They were so delicious. We decided to grill out the next day and I would fix some. My host had informed me that she used soy sauce as a marinade and grilled them a few minutes. Not realizing she had just brushed the sauce on, I thought I would let them soak awhile. I filled a shallow pan with soy sauce and put them in. After awhile, they soaked it all up, so I added some more. As you can imagine, they ended up as nasty sponges that tasted of nothing but hot soy sauce.
Then there’s the time I was pregnant and craving chocolate malts. I arrived at my parent’s home already craving one. I went to whip up a malt in the blender right away. I almost threw-up when I gulped a big drink and discovered I had grabbed the buttermilk.
There are more, but these are some of the more memorable of my food preparation disasters. I would love to hear some of yours. Imperfect cooking makes for a good story.