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This is why I don’t cook

So here’s what today’s menu was supposed to be:

Rotisserie’d turkey
My grandfather’s Deluxe Rolls
Mashed potatoes
Sweet potatoes
Brussels Sprouts
Snow peas
Key Lime Pie
Boston Cream Pie

I got up early to get the rolls started. I made the dough, put it in a greased bowl and put the bowl in front of the heater. It was supposed to double in 2 hours. Over the next two hours I made both pies and finished cleaning up the living room/bathroom. Well, as much as I could until the vacuum cleaner died.

I started to put the turkey in the rotisserie and found out that I was missing a part. Okay, new plan. I don’t have a turkey-roasting rack, but I do have a cage from the rotisserie that I think you’re supposed to use for kabobs or something. I stuffed the cage full of carrots, put the turkey on the cage, and preheated the oven to 500. I put the turkey in the oven, waited five minutes for the smoke to come billowing out, then put a fan in the window and carried on. After 30 minutes, I was supposed to take the turkey out, put aluminum foil over the breast, and reduce the heat to 350. I got all of that done PLUS got a nice fat 2nd degree burn on my hand right on my mound of Venus (totally SFW — I’m not talking about the one in my crotch). I’m just wicked talented like that.

After all that, I checked on my rolls. Erh … there is no rising happening. So no rolls. I call my parents and ask them to pick some up on their way over. “No problem,” they say. “Everyone has something go wrong, and having the dough not rise is bound to be the worst of your problems.” I figured I’d tell them about the burn on my hand as a lighthearted story over dinner.

On to the potatoes! I peel both sets of potatoes, chop them up, and put them in water. I set them on the stove, ready for cooking in a little while. I worked on dinner’s playlist for a while, trying to meld my father’s taste with whatever wouldn’t drive the rest of us crazy over two hours.

My parents arrive around this time, and I take their arrival as a sign that I can hop in the shower for a couple minutes because I felt pretty skanky. When I came out again, I checked on the turkey. Half an hour of 500 degrees made it beautifully golden brown, but the thermometer barely registered anything at all, plus the oven thermometer I’d stuck in there read about 175. I pulled my mom over (quietly, trying not to get my dad’s attention), and she suggested we bring the heat up to 450 or so. Maybe my thermostat was broken. Then we tried to start the potatoes and none of the burners worked. I was out of propane.

They took me (and the friends I’d invited, who walked in the door just as I was crying about my failed dinner) out to lunch, but I am feeling awful. I wanted so badly to entertain people for a real meal. I do know how to cook, I promise. But shit like this happens and I never want to cook again.

PS, I haven’t tried the key lime pie yet, but the Boston Cream came out pretty good. I mean, it’s Boston Cream. It’s pretty tough to screw that up.