For the first time in years, my dinner bombed this evening.

I wanted to make chicken chop (a Malaysian dish of chicken drumstick deboned and grilled/fried and then topped with gravy) but I had only breast meat, so it turned out hard and dry. The Betty Crocker gravy I bought was bland. I ended up eating most of it because Rae didn't want any of it either (she ended up eating a peanut butter sandwich, poor thing). The only person who liked it was Lokes, insisting it was good, the darling man.

I also tried to make soft-baked chocolate chunks but didn't put enough sugar so that fell flat as well.

As a child, I used to think my mom was such a good mother because she used to eat all the burnt, black or ruined parts of any meal she ever cooked.

She would give us all the best portions while she would cook as she eat, cleaning out all the bones, crispy ends and stuff she thought noone would eat so instead of wasting, she would clean it out before anyone could see them. By the time dinner was served, she would be full but she would sit at the table with her small bowl of rice, watching my dad, sis and me eat happily.

Now I know she was just eliminating evidence that she was ever a sucky cook.

Just as I did today.

I should put that as a tip in my cooking blog.