Hannah Barger: The adventures of culinary misadventures

I like to cook. I could tell you this is because I really appreciate the beauty of the culinary arts, but the truth is I like to eat. I’ve been known to come up with a fabulous recipe or two, but I am not perfect.
Apr 29, 2014
Hannah Barger

I like to cook. I could tell you this is because I really appreciate the beauty of the culinary arts, but the truth is I like to eat. I’ve been known to come up with a fabulous recipe or two, but I am not perfect. 

Yes, like the legion of master chefs before me, I’ve made a few mistakes. Listed below are a few of my revelations when it comes to cooking. 

Almond milk as coffee creamer

At first glance, this sounds like a great idea. Almond milk is delicious; coffee is delicious- what could possibly go wrong? The answer is everything. The terrible underlying flavors of both beverages mixed, but not before taking turns fighting each other to the surface in order to poison me. The final blow to my taste buds was an aftertaste that can only be described as “mulch.” The evil concoction was promptly disposed of and labeled as hazardous material.

Grilled tuna sandwich

Mayonnaise is wrong. When well-hidden in other foods like tuna or chicken salad, the true nature of this condiment fails to rear its head. However, when heat is added, the more insidious qualities of mayonnaise are brought to light. In other words, the stuff liquefied and ran down my arm before dripping onto the counter. Five ambulances had to be called in order to revive me. 

Chocolate chip cookies 

In 18 years of living, I have made one good batch of cookies. This monumental event happened in February as I recall, and I have never again managed to duplicate my success. Every batch of cookies before or after that magical evening has liquefied – much like the mayonnaise mentioned above, only not quite as disgusting – into a thin sheet of plastic-like batter dotted with burnt chocolate. My only other victories in the cookie department have been courtesy of either Pillsbury or Toll House.

Whipped cream

I should begin by saying that the result of this venture wasn’t disgusting or even unappetizing. The problem lies in the fact that the result of this venture could be called whipped cream only by the broadest of standards. 

After at least 12 minutes of slaving over an electric mixer, praying to every deity I could think of, and weeping, the would-be whipped cream refused to yield. I respect that, so I turned off the mixer and let it be. 

Hannah Barger is a senior at Wilson Central High School and plans to attend Tennessee Tech University in the fall to major in journalism.

 

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