I know you want to know. Last nights (when did I start writing this? May be a couple nights ago now) spaghetti and monster meatballs were a huge (no pun intended) hit. I used a pound of meat and got THREE meatballs:
Me in the kitchen is a lot like this. My monologue is about the same, only internal. I’ve been known to remove hot things from the oven with my bare hands. I also do the little dance, I must say.
Other than that, there are stinky smells, plumes of smoke, the occassional shriek and a rare fall (ice cubes will be the death of me). MOST of the time, the food that leaves my kitchen is not only edible, but incredibly tasty. My guy says so. After the meatball he said, “You should NEVER stop cooking.” From a chef that’s pretty high praise. I’ll take it!