Ramsey would not approve

I enjoy cooking. Usually. Okay, sometimes. All right, if you must know (and I know you must), I like to cook when three conditions coexist: 1) I have a sexy or exotic new recipe which is guaranteed to taste delicious 2) I have managed to collect all of the ingredients and tools without breaking the bank and 3) I have a large block of time without distractions in which I may savor the culinary creation experience. When does this happen, you may ask? (Sound of loud buzzer) NEVER.

Last night, for instance, dinnertime was drawing near. I had not yet been to the grocery store since our return from Hawaii. The panic began to rise in my head:

What will I feed my hungry husband? How will I explain that I got to sleep in until 11:00 (aside: remember jet lag, before you judge me too harshly) while he had to rise and work, but I did not manage to put any food on the table? What frozen food can I turn to in my freezer? ARGH, the taquitos box is empty; we ate the last pizza the day we left . . . what to do? what to do? Ah hah! Frozen ground beef. And already cooked, bonus! Tortillas? check. Sour cream and salsa? check. Frozen cheese, even. What luck. Pick a tomato from the garden, have D pick up some lettuce and onion on the way home, and we're havin' tacos! Hooray, I am so proud.

I was so proud. Haughty, even. Until I watched Ramsey's Kitchen Nightmares on my Tivo. He was horrified at the chef's use of frozen food. I shrunk in shame, imagining what Mr. Ramsey would say if he had viewed my culinary display. I'd've earned an F-bomb for sure. Or three.

I shall improve my cooking, beginning tomorrow. This is my goal and I am writing it down to commit myself.

But I'd better pick up some taquitos at Costco, just in case.