The 26-year-old virgin

1.22.09

Phone call with the Mother...

"Hi Mom. Yep, today's the day. I know, I know, it is about time. Yeah, a little nervous, but Simone's always here if anything goes wrong. Ok, I'll call you when I'm done. Oh, wait, wait... Mom? Does the chicken go in the stove or on the stove?"

Brand-new-old apron on waist, pestle and mortar borrowed from neighbor, and freshly-purchased groceries on the kitchen table—I was ready to cook my first meal! Granted, this meal was merely chicken caesar salad, but, you must remember that I am unable to cook Mac and cheese without A.) ending up with some turn-of-the-century orphanage gruel or B.) Acquiring 3rd degree burns on my forehead. 

I started by researching recipes on the internet. First, I looked up "simple caesar salad recipe", but the idea of store-bought croutons and dressing seemed to cheapen the epicurean meal I had envisioned. Finally I landed at the blog Adaptations, which featured a recipe from Jamie Oliver (I believe he's the young 'I'm-good-looking-in-an-Irish-way' chef). It called for you to make your own croutons and dressing, but still seemed simple enough for even the most novice of cooks. And by novice I mean virginal. 

Besides omitting the Pancetta (and by omitting, I mean forgetting to buy), and having to ask where the Rosemary sprigs were (it wasn't in the spice aisle), the actual preparation and cooking went along quite nicely (thank you though Simone, for assuring me the chicken was in fact cooked.) It was only moments before the unveiling of the meal, that I realized my one egregious mistake (and figured out why the dressing was so strong and had seared my mouth with a robust lingering of garlic): I had put in 1/4 of a garlic bulb not 1/4 of a garlic clove—as the recipe had called for. Whoops.