"Okay, if I take the chicken out of the freezer now and put them in the fridge, will they defrost by 6pm?"
"Put them in a pot? How big of a pot?"
"The paper won't come off."
"How do I know if they are defrosted?"
"Sh*t, I forgot to put tinfoil on top of the pan. How long should they cook now?"
"Are they supposed to be this color?"
"What color should they be?"
"How long do the frenchfries take to cook?"
"Should I cut the potato in half?"
"When do I turn them?"
My mother was born and raised in Naples, Italy. It's a little sad I had to call her about five or six times tonight. I picture her and my other ancestors of Italian and chef-ly origin laughing at me from centuries past.
All in all, though, I think everything came out well. I made home made french fries and drumsticks. The chicken tasted too much like chicken -- I think I should have added more seasoning! I can't believe how nerve wracking that was. I don't know if it's because it was the first time I actually cooked a full meal for Matt, or if because there was a threat of salmonella. Perhaps both.