Une Catastrophe dans la cuisine!

So I thought I’d attempt to cook PORK for the girls this evening – and I don’t think I’ve ever actually cooked meat before (with the exception of frying bacon...). The whole mission of cooking the pork was difficult right from the word ‘go’, or when I attempted to take the chops out of the packet... The cooking instructions were useless (if you call a few pictures, ‘instructions’), so after poking it with a steak knife and levering the pieces onto tin foil, I turned the oven on high and let them frazzle.

I’ve got rice in one pan, I’m attempting to boil courgettes (the kitchen is deficient of a steamer – one of the best inventions ever), keep the onions moving round another pan whilst chopping up aubergines to grill. The things I check on most definitely aren’t ready, and things I ignore start to sizzle and over-cook. I throw open the oven door to find 3 shrivelled pork chops; the edges slowly turning darker and looking more and more unattractive. I flip them over with a knife and leave them to cook on the other side. Meanwhile, the onions are sticking to the pan, the rice is still raw and the water to boil the courgettes is still cold. I think the aubergines are the only thing actually going to plan! I fling all the med-veg in one pan with some tomato sauce, by now the rice is over-done, and the pork chops look... well, like burnt pork chops. I poke it with a knife – am I looking for juices? It’s like leather anyway and I can’t possibly imagine anyone attempting to eat it. I serve it up, disguse it in basil and try my best to make it look at all appetising on the plate, and place them gingerly on the table. 

Maybe it’s the French, but the girls dive into in, tearing the meat off the bone and pinching each other’s rice. I’m amazed, and feel very sympathetic for them for eating it. The Dad arrives and picks at the food, and tells me something in French about cooking meat (I explained it was my first time), and said something about ‘maladies’ (= sickness). I instantly panic, wondering if I’ve poisoned the girls... Every cough, sniffle and toilet trip lasting more than 2 minutes will have me fearing the worst now, AND IT’LL ALL BE MY FAULT.