I am not the cook in this family, and I’m not ashamed to say so. I can cook (for the most part), but I choose not to. I don’t enjoy it and I’m far too impatient to wait for the outcome which usually leaves me making macaroni and cheese or sandwiches or something to that extent when Mike’s not home. He continually gives me a hard time because I just don’t cook. I say when he starts cleaning after himself *maybe* I’ll start cooking. But, I digress.

I cooked last night.

Kinda.

While perusing WalMart on Sunday we came across a fondue pot. We both have talked about buying one and what better opportunity than when you’re wandering about WalMart looking for items to blow hard earned money on.

So fondue for dinner last night.

image from bfeedme.com

I took Hudson grocery shopping yesterday to gather all the items we would need: cheese, fruits, bread, chocolate. Simple enough, right? I mean, how hard can fondue really be? (No, I’ve never actually ‘cooked’ for fondue before. I’ve eaten it many times.)

Mike, a wine hater, refused to use the wine cheese and requested Velveeta cheese instead. I am not partial to the Velveeta (unless it’s the macaroni because YUM!) and bought wine cheese for myself which didn’t get made because FOR THE LOVE OF GOD WE DON’T NEED THAT MUCH CHEESE! Needless I say I was a little pissed off that my cheese would have been too much. WTF?

Fighting ensued, as it seems to more and more often these days - AGAIN - and when that happens everything else is usually ruined but I was determined to make this the fun! and exciting! dinner I had envisioned. I wasn’t going to let selfishness and inconsiderate behaviour *ahem* ruin our family time, dammit.

I should have known that the evening was headed in a downward slope from this point on, but I digress.

Back to how Easy! fondue is to make!

Put the cheese in the pot and stir, right? Ya, that’s what I thought too. Mike went about melting the cheese while I tended to Hudson and Carter, I could smell this gawd awful aroma of fuel and melting/burning cheese but opted not to question what was happening. It turns out that the melting pot is not exactly meant for melting. Apparently it’s supposed to be melted in a pot on the stove prior to going in the MELTING POT.

I kid you not. How’s that for fuckin’ with your mind?

Needless to say cheese was melted, and CRUSTED to the bottom of the pot rendering it nearly inedible. I say nearly because apparently BURNT cheese is more enjoyable for a toddler than a perfectly cooked steak dinner.

Thinking things may improve with a little chocolate (because what can’t chocolate fix?) I prepared a water bath on the stove and began melting the chocolate wafers I bought.

Now, let me set the mood for you: the water boiling on high, chocolate melting, Carter running around, baby crying and husband pouting. Great atmosphere, right? LOVE. IT. You know you’re jealous.

Chocolate perfect consistency, my mouth is watering just thinking about scooping it up with a plump, ripe strawberry.

Cue distraction.

Cut back to beautiful, wonderful soupy chocolate which is apparently not so soupy anymore but erring on the side of sand-like consistency.

Fuck!

Apparently you can overcook chocolate. Who knew?

I wasn’t going to give up on it. I can’t turn my back on chocolate no matter the situation.

Instead of dipping my fruit into the creamy goodness I was hoping for I was scooping chocolate crystals on to my knife and attempting to smear it on pineapple, banana and strawberries.

I was damned if I wasn’t going to give this all the fight I had.

The fight didn’t last long.

I conceded to the overcooked chocolate and burnt cheese. I was officially the loser.

As I cleared the table, cursing under my breath, I felt an incredible urge just throw it all in the garbage and never attempt it again. Instead I asked Mike: “You think we can scrub the shit outta the pot and pawn it off as a Christmas gift?”

Who knew there was an art to cooking fondue?