I don't have a lot of time to cook, but when I do, I'm pretty good at it. I'm not a gourmet chef by any stretch of the imagination -- since, on the most part, I'm too lazy to try all that hard, and I'm not particularly experimental about it -- but I'm pretty okay. I tend to cook on Sundays, and I generally limit it to things that (1) I know that I like to eat;* (2) don't make a tremendous mess; and (3) reheat pretty well for later in the week.
For example, yesterday I made poached salmon in white wine with whole wheat cheese tortellini. It yielded three portions, so I put two away in the fridge, in those nifty little square Gladware containers.
This evening, I came home from work and went to go reheat one of the portions. One minute in, it exploded all over my microwave.
Flakes of Salmon.
All. Over. The. Microwave.
So, being a tough and resilient -- and hungry -- girl, I decided to try again with the second portion. First, I cleaned the microwave using those handy-dandy little Clorox antibacterial kitchen wipes. Then I put the container in the microwave for round two. I shortened the time, reduced the heat setting, placed the cover ever-so-gently on top of the container at an angle so as to give it room to vent.
Everything seemed to be going so well. I was standing there, watching the timer count down -- 5, 4, 3, 2 . . . and then it exploded again. All over the microwave, take two.
Ultimately, I managed to rescue most of the tortellini, and ate them for dinner. Every once in a while, I'd find a small chunk of salmon.
So, that's me: Good cook, piss-poor microwaver. I should stick to bagels and peanut butter sandwiches.
*I do not, however, cook steak. I've tried on many an occasion, and no matter what I do, it's not as good as in a restaurant. So I'll leave that to the professionals.