2 weekends ago, my family had an outing for all of the grandchildren, great grandchildren, great-great, grandchildren, etc., at my late grandparents home. Everyone turned out, and I was excited to see so many of my cousins, aunts, and uncles that I hadn’t seen in a while. I socialized heartily, hugging and greeting everyone, waving like the queen, cheesing like I was a Miss America pageant winner and all; I was really feeling a ‘happy’ vibe’…that is…until the food got served. I put two ribs on my plate, some macaroni and cheese, potato salad, two beef franks, and got some lemonade. I had only eaten a light breakfast that morning, so I was pretty hungry. I found me a seat, sat down, and started to grub. Took a bite of the rib, and Lawd! The meat was tough. Ripped at it like a Rottweiler. Then I took a bite of the macaroni–it tasted like old stale cheese that was in the refrigerator too long, then the potato salad–ugh! All I tasted was salt. What happened to the flavor? I looked around…trying not to be obvious. I was going to throw this ish in the garbage. I played it off for about 20 minutes, then I made my move. SWOOSH! There went the plate. I only ate the beef franks because Oscar Meyer made those. And thank God my cousin made some great lemonade. I had 4 cups of it to wash the taste out of my mouth from the bad macaroni.
As I continued my socializing…all I could do was to ponder how in the world could some of my family members be this incompetent at cooking? I love macaroni. How dare someone bring this kind of food to a cookout. May I also add: that I do not trust people who can’t make macaroni. Frankly, I think it’s a crime.
What was going on?
I swear…I thought I was being punked by a show that should have been called, Worst Cooks in America.
Had my aunts and some of my cousins not ever heard of seasonings?
We’re all southerners. That in and of itself should qualify, but here’s the kicker: many southern people can’t cook like our ancestors did. Oh, I can burn, baby. Trust me on that, but I had to sit there and realize that as much as I loved many of these people, no money on this earth would ever be enough for me to allow such a travesty to take place ever again.
Next year, I will be cooking. I already have made my list.
I demand a family meeting. This must be discussed in detail. Lives are at stake.
I’m sorry, but some people just should not be in charge of preparing food on this level.
One of my cousins who was grilling…acted like he was not quite there. I couldn’t figure it out. Had he ever heard of marinating meat, then basting between slow cooking on the grill? I pondered over this. Something was awry.
Don’t ever let strangers cook at the cookout. And make sure you know WHO’S COOKING. Everyone is not blessed.
There are three things I’ve learned about cookouts:
- Some people know how to grill
- Some people think they know how to grill
- And there are some who should not be allowed to grill–EVER!
I was very disappointed about the food, but it was a good day, and I guess, what really mattered most, is that we came together as a family, and the most important thing that got served was LOVE.
*Ok…I was still mad about the macaroni…