So my mom has just started reading my blog not to long ago, couple of months maybe. If she doesn't comment on my blog, she usually says something to me when I talk to her on the phone. In one of my recent posts she said something about writing about "our stories". We all have that story that we are known for and no matter how many times you hear it, you still laugh your ass off, or shake your head in disbelief. My story is about making a box of rice. Those of you that know the story know what I'm talking and can start laughing now. Those of you who don't, you will laugh and shake your head in disbelief.
Growing up (there's that phrase again) I was an athlete, still am. As far back as I could remember I played sports. I started off with T-ball when I was about 6 or 7 and went on to play hockey for a couple of years, softball in Jr. high, volleyball in Jr. high and high school, and found my real love of soccer at about age 12, which I played into college. It was my kinda sport. I was pretty decent in my opinion. I played on a travel team, I was 15 playing on a Under 18 (U-18) team. They had a U-15 team but I was better than most and wanted to play with the "big kids". The travel team played in the fall and then my HS team was the spring. So the only time that I really had any down time was in the winter and it wasn't much before I was back in season again. My point to all of this is that I wasn't at home a lot at night when my mom was cooking dinner. Most nights I came home still in practice clothes, sweaty, stinky, and dirty. I would eat, shower, and then do homework, then bed. When I didn't have HW I was doing nothing. If I was home on the weekend I was again, doing nothing b/c I was out all week doing school and sports. Later, I eventually got a job and that took me away from home even more.
When I was home on the weekend and I was home when my mom was cooking she would say to me, "Ya know Andi, some day you're going to get married and you are going to have to cook for your husband. You should come over here and pay attention." From time to time I would but most times I wasn't interested. I was more interested in what was on TV or hanging out with my friends or playing whatever sport was in season at the time.
Then came the time where I was asked to make dinner. My sister would make this chicken and mushroom thing...I loved it!! I would have her add an extra can of mushrooms because they tasted so good with the chicken. I thought this was a very complex meal. (stop laughing mom and bri). Well you know you need some sort of starch to go with it. So here I was making the chicken and mushroom thing, with my sister's supervision of course (she is younger than me and this was kinda hard for me to swallow that I was going to my sister for something as simple as cooking, but I could still beat her up so I was okay with it). So my father yells from the chair,
Dad: Andi Make the rice.
Me: How do you do that?
Dad: Follow the directions on the side of the box!
Me: Okay
So I start to read the directions. (this is a box of rice a roni too). Pour rice in sauce pan. Cook with butter until rice is brown, add seasoning packet, cover and cook 15 minutes or until done.
Those of you that cook, have you seen my mistake? If not, it will appear to you shortly. I follow the above directions. Now the chicken and mushroom thing is looking good at this point. I'm excited that I proved my mom wrong...little did I know.
I plate up the chicken and mushroom thing and then I uncover the pan that the rice is in. I look at it and it doesn't look right. I call to my dad...
Me: DAD, there is something wrong with the rice. I don't think I did it right?
Dad: Well did you follow the instructions?
Me: I think so.
Dad: Okay, I'll come and have a look.
(my dad is a chef in the army for 20 years) Dad walks over to the pan of very DARK BROWN rice.
Dad: What did you do?
Me: What the box said.
Dad: Did you put any water in with the rice?
Me: You have to put water in?
Dad: Are you kidding me!? Yes you have to put water in to cook rice!
Me: Really? You do?
Dad: OMG, unbelievable Andi. You are never going to live this one down.
Me: Really, rice needs water (as I'm picking the box up to read the directions again) Oh yeah, there is a little picture of the measuring cup on the top and under it says 2/3 cup of water.
What happened next my sister won't let me forget. My dad tried to "save the rice". He added the water and cooked the rice again. It was almost black by the time we ate it and very crunchy according to my sister. I didn't eat it.
I still hear this story today and every Thanksgiving that I cook, from my father. There will be a house full of people and they are telling me how great the meal is and dad will pipe up and say, Hey did Andi ever tell you about the time she burnt rice? I laugh because life is a learning process. I did learn to cook, I make a killer spaghetti sauce and an even better lasagna but that is because of the sauce. I think I cook better than my sister, at least at some things. Why don't you ask her about her upside down chicken. Go on....tell that story.
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