J A N E
J O R D A N
My mother can’t cook. This is a fact. My mother is great at a lot of things, and cooking isn’t one of them. She was good for baking chicken quarters, making buttered noodles (which is still my favorite comfort food to this day!), and microwavable French fries. But that’s honestly one of the reasons that I love her.
She never tried to be anything that she wasn’t. A true believer in the Crock-Pot until that ho broke and we were left to our own devices. She taught me that it’s okay to not be the black Martha Stewart in the kitchen.
But, it’s totally fine because like my mom, I have a flair for good and cheap takeout. Trial and error has been helpful in my journey to learning how to cook, dousing my food in Sweet Baby Ray’s and Louisiana Hot Sauce and/or going hungry. Something that’s been super helpful has been Plated, a full-meal subscription service that has really yummy meals and really simple recipes. I’m also trying to cut back on the Caviar and stuff.
I will be gifting this to Mom soon (if you’re reading this, surprise!), and it’s super comprehensible and really tasty.
Can you cook? How do you survive?
After lots of practice I think I've mastered a true baked macaroni and cheese recipe.
My Queer Eye binging ended in crying, but nothing makes me cry more than seeing Antoni continue to
put greek yogurt where it doesn't belong.
Still can't find decent Mexican food in Portland.
Am I the only one that wonders what Nicki Minaj's fridge looks like?
Is Hennessy a food group?