Let's get some stories going about your worst botched cooking experience. Anything from the generic starting your house on fire to mysteriously turning the color of what should have been a well-prepared dish for a fancy dinner.
I'll go ahead and start.
For Christmas this past year, I'd planned a really nice home cooked meal for the gal I was dating. It was just cooking for two, but I had 6+ things to cook, iirc. I decided (stupidly) to get most of the ingredients on Christmas Eve. I also made the mistake of waiting too long to go out, so I was on quite the time crunch by the end of the day to gather everything.
As it turns out, I wasn't able to pick up everything I needed. Or so I thought. See, I needed ricotta cheese for the cheesecake I was making. New recipe I'd dug up, sounded good. The places I went that would've had it were closed. I ended up at a small Mediterranean grocer that was still open at 5PM. By what I thought was sheer luck, they had ricotta in stock. Having never used said cheese in my cooking, I thought it would be perfectly normal to buy a 4lb ball of the shit. :facepalm: When I got home, I noticed another peculiarity. It was from goat's milk.
I figured it shouldn't be a problem, so fuck it. Made the damn cheese cake anyway. Two pans of it, in fact. Everything was going smoothly, I was in a great mood (I was drinking while cooking:facepalm:). Got what I could done, and found out the dinner would be delayed to the next night. Ok, whatever. I still have some damn good food to munch on for a bit. Took the cheese cake out, threw it in the fridge to solidify, thought nothing of it.
Once it was cool, I had a piece. Tasted a little salty. Thought nothing of it at the time, so I took that and a loaf of Italian bread up to the bar I work at to share with my friends. Everyone who had the cheese cake immediately spat it into the trashcan. We spent the next hour trying to decide if the cheese was to blame or if I was simply drunk and added salt instead of sugar to my batter. Having tasted the cheese, I stand by the cheese being to blame. It was salty as fuck. Or so I recall. My cooking was not trusted again for some time....
Summary for the lazy: I made salty cheesecake like a boss.
It was so salty I couldn't eat it.
Kinda like the time I accidentally added salt instead of sugar to some ANZAC biscuits.
And totally different from the time that I made spaghetti sauce so hot that not even adding a variety of other stuff didn't help.
Or like the time that I cut Jalapenos to put in something I was cooking and the juices actually burned my hands.
I ended up adding way to much shit and when I was finally able to roll that fucker up, it was as big around as a burrito. She wouldn't touch it but I ate that bastard and it was delicious. Fuck that girl. She must not have liked my D.
One night I fancied some of what I would call singapore noodles - some hole in the wall wok shack sold them near me years back. I aced those and that gave me a bit of confidence with chinese style shit as I usually would normally end up with a mess that tasted of 5 spice.
The disasters came with sausage curry and home made all day breakfast in one pan. Sausage curry was made with cheap ass supermarket own brand frozen sausages, curry paste and tomatoes - it was like greasy shit. Shame I had done some basmiti cooked with safron to make it yellow to go with it.
It all went in the bin.
All day breakfast in a pan was my take on 'All day breakfast in a can' - a concoction of baked beans in tomato sauce, sausage, bacon and either scrambled egg or a mini omlete.
I, whilst into the nth hour of one of those times, must have decided it was a good idea to stirfry all of the ingredients to make some kind of gourmet stoner food.
The sausages went in first, cooked a little and then the bacon. When the bacon looked like it was on the way, a can of beans and hotdogs went in and then cooked to warm the sausages through. As for the eggs, I thougt I would scramble them in this soon to be a meal where you would be thinking of the Viking Gods as you ate it. A meal to fight battles on and drink Ale with.
The eggs kinda disapeared as I stired them in to scramble them. I thought once they cooked through, they would be like decent sized peices of egg. And why not some cheese? Do people not regularly have a nice bit of cheddar grated onto their baked beans? OK, some of that. Grate it in and it will be even better.
I must have thought it was cooked as it was like a paste that kept sticking. I served it in a bowl. It was pretty much the texture of custard and tasted dirty. It went in the bin. I got another stella and played more call of duty.
Mixed the bitch up and chucked it in the fridge to set, six hours later I went to grab a slice, yanked the tray out of the fridge expecting it to be solid and it went everywere, all over fridge, floor and me.
There was also the time I was at school making a pizza, I was about 6 and had no idea about fractions so when.if came to add "1 1/4 cups of flour" I added 6, 1+1+4.
Totally fucked it up, and we leant fractions the next week.
Working in a food factory we have had a few fuck ups (none my fault thankfully). Full tankers being filled again and having 20T on the floor. Pipes being left off the bottom of a hopper after cleaning and then being filled, 3 foot of liquid fat in a basment that had to be manually moved out. Rancid butter being used and only found out once it came to a final taste test.
Sometime in the morning, a service man had come to repair one of the fridges, unknown to me, he had turned off the breaker before servicing it, and when it could not be fixed on site, he left with the compressor, and I went on with my day.
I should have noticed that the three rice cookers did not show any lights as I filled them and set them to cook. I should have noticed that the kitchen did not smell like Jasmine rice as lunch hour approached. I was busy with a pissed off dishwasher, a clogged grease trap that was expelling vile crap all over the floor, and I was rolling a little on 2-cb, busy, busy.
I saw the buses roll in, and set the team in motion, everything timed and wired. I heard the word fuck, said in such a way that I knew the person uttering it had either cut himself, or fucked something. I turned around to see my lead cook, covered in cold raw rice and water, throw a chafing dish of slop across the room, yelling "It's fucking shit, none of this shit is on, we are fucked, we are fucking fucked"
I wish I could tell you that I dragged it out of the fire somehow, I wish I could say I had some brilliant plan of action that saved the day. But no, I lied like a bastard to the tour guides, telling them that we had a power outage, and they could either have sandwiches, the "Pork Bulgogi" stir fry, and the cold side of the buffet, or wait for an hour. This was an even worse mistake.
They raped my sandwich counter, there was one bagel left, the one with no cream cheese on it. As the Koreans filed into the dining room with their sandwiches to enjoy the cold side of the buffet, and the Korean stir fry that was hot and ready, but almost universally ignored due to the lack of rice, two buses that had booked for soup and sandwich in the cafeteria pulled in.
As one lie usually begets another, I found myself explaining to two tour guides that two other tour groups had shown up at 11:00 and I was sold out of sandwiches. They got free soup, bread, and the little packages of cheese whizz that I only set out for companies I liked.
Every single person, tourists, staff, guides, owners, everyone was pissed at me. One fucking breaker had cost my kitchen a lot of money, and almost erased the credibility I had gone to great lengths to develop with the tour companies. After work I bought 2 liters of the house wine, hiked up a hill, and sat in slowly melting snow drinking red wine and coke till I puked.
Also I was never good with customers and was told to make a few drinks as I was the only staff member below the Boss and free. Went there, did it as best I thought on the machine and gave it to the customers.
Even though there was steam, they were cold as ice. Fucking funny watching them pretend to like it.
I can't remember if it was the first soup I had made or what but my chef told me to make a beer cheese soup.
I'm not goin to bore you with the not very interesting details, but I asked how much cheese to put in the soup and he answered "that whole block of cheddar". I put in the whole block of cheddar without shredding it, all at once. Needless to say the cheese wouldn't melt and incorporate into the soup. I sat there for an hour and a half trying to smash it with a whisk, a potato masher, a buerre mixer ect. Luckily when chef came down from the office and I told him what I had done he thought it was hilarious.
Was slicing habaneros and went to take a piss.
:mad::mad::mad: AHHHHHHHH THE BURN!!! :mad::mad::mad:
Was not as bad as as i had feared but it did burn for quite a while...
The eyes are worse i think.
One good way to get rid of the chili burn is to rub the area with olive oil, and after that some dishwashing soap to get rid of the oil.
Maybe i will make a sign to put next to my habanero plants: "Wash hands before handling penis."
Should be good for a few laughs when people come to visit.