Last night I cooked. Now, I've done that before, so that in and of itself is not the big deal. It's what I cooked.
I bought some raw chicken. And I put it on a grill. And I cooked it.
I don't do raw meat, especially not raw chicken. That's enough to make me gag even just thinking about it. But I was starving for meat yesterday. It happens sometimes, as I rarely eat it.
When Evan graduated from college and again later when he got married, he gave me several kitchen-y things: a toaster, old pots and pans, and a tiny George Foreman grill. I've never used the grill because, like I said, I don't do meat.
Last night was my first try with it. The chicken was brilliant and I'm sold. I think I can do it. I even picked up the chicken and placed it on the grill with my bare fingers. No gloves, to utensils. It was gross, but bearable.
I must be growing up. When I do things like get over a major hang-up in my life...
I can't lie. I like my weirdnesses. Many of those "major hang-ups" are things I actually don't want to get rid of. Produces a lot more stories in my life.
2 comments:
you make me so proud
i really don't like doing meat either. i will eat it but i don't like cooking it... i get scott to cut our raw chicken when i make it because it feels gross to me to cut it. i know it's wimpy. one year i was here by myself and had thanksgiving, so i had to do the turkey by myself and i really had to psyche myself up to do it -- and i did do it, but i actually cried while i did it!
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