I come from a short line of women who, how do you say....can't cook. The line is short because people with skills such as mine tend towards a life of domestic unfulfillment, painful digestive incidents, and an early grave. Fortunately, my mother married early and my father is a culinary genius, and so survived to produce three children, two of whom can cook with a view to improvisation and international flair.
The other one is me.
And while I've had my fair share of kitchen shennanigans, before last week I'd never suffered the ultimate shame of accidently setting my food on fire. TACOS! My one weakness!
On the plus side, Shandy got some choice photos of me and our dinner guest with the flame-spewing oven. They'll be keepers for sure.
