Cooking Fails Novels & Stories

She put her hands together, skipping lightly as she struggled to pass it down. There was just too much garlic. The chicken too was undercooked in the middle, while the sauce was undone, it clung to the roof of her mouth. The casserole was an ultimate failure. There goes all the YouTube videos and tutorials. "What can I do right?" She groaned, tossing the fork away. She threw her hands in frustration. Tears burned at the back of her eyes, she wasn't sure whether it was the hunger or the pain of her incompetence. She leaned against the counter, feeling defeated. “This is stupid,” she whispered. “Why am I even trying?”

“Then why the hell are you even attempting this?” I shrug. “Because it’s romantic. It’s what they do in the movies.” “Yeah, and in the movies, the kitchen doesn’t catch on fire when they try it.” “I’m not that bad.” She crosses her arms. “Yes, you are.” She deadpan. “You are not encouraging. Look I can try –” “No, you can’t. Read my lips, Astrid Peter Volkov, you are a disaster in the kitchen.” She’s right. I can’t cook to save myself or anyone for that matter.

Mike commented, admiring the decor. "Thanks," I replied, feeling a hint of warmth. "Have a seat. I'll go prepare some food for Velma." Mike nodded, taking a seat at the dining table as I made my way to the kitchen. I could feel the intensity of his gaze burn the back of my head, like lasers. I put on my apron and started to cook, trying to focus on the task at hand despite the chaotic thoughts swirling in my mind. But as I got lost while chopping vegetables and stirring pots, a cooking accident occurred. I had forgotten a pan of oil on the gas, and before I knew it, the kitchen was filled with smoke. The kind that has a particular menace to it.

She reached for her glass of milk, hoping to wash it down quickly. "Is it good? You don’t have to eat it if it’s not. I can order something else," he said, his eyes pleading. Camila shook her head, forcing a smile. Then she tried the egg. Big mistake—it was undercooked and completely unseasoned. Sighing, she gulped down more milk. "It’s okay to be a bad cook, you know. You’re already so successful and busy. Cooking doesn’t mean anything," she tried to reassure him with a sweet tone.

"Okay then...let's just start with the simple meals. But first off—chop the vegetables." An hour after they had started, Aliyah stopped in front of the first meal she prepared—her expression sour and lost. She didn't try her best this time but it didn't turn out well. "I don't know what to do Viola," she picked one of the cutlery to have a taste of the food—as soon as it touched her tongue, her face turned heavy and she sighed. "I don't even need anyone to tell me that this is another failed mess. We have less than 4 hours and the first meal is a failure. This is fucking annoying," she pressed her lips together—her resolve slowly diminished.

"Wait no! I'm sorry." "Good boy." I keep the vibrator on the low setting, just enough to keep him hard but not enough to make him cum anytime soon. The food is brought over and we both start eating and chatting. Cole accidentally lets it slip that he's failing maths and biology which doesn't please me at all. "What's going on? Why did you fail?" I ask, putting down my knife and fork to pay him full attention. "I just find it hard. All this stuff I have to remember makes me struggle with it all." He looks down at the table looking quite distressed.

Tarrin responded, holding out his credit card. “What happened to your face?” Linux asked, having no couth. ‘Ahh, yeah, hazards of being in a rush in an unorganized kitchen. Pan fell from the shelf and hit me.” The owner replied, half laughing to Linux as he took Tarrin’s card. “Well, you should really organize your kitchen then. If you're running the place by yourself, it would help out you in the long run.” Linux’s idiocy made Tarrin shake his head and kick him under the table.

I shift his own plate of custard and milk to his view as I pass his own plate of fried eggs too. "It's just simple frying of eggs. What's so hard about it?" I ask Mike, staring at his face as he towers above me. "Hmm, it's not easy to fry eggs as delicious as yours. The last time I tried frying eggs, they got burnt, and I ended up throwing them away," Mike says, his face darkening with frustration at the recollection of his inability to cook. "You don't like cooking. Besides, cooking is for girls," I reply, grinning at his inability to cook.

“And what exactly is your plan now, Chef?” The poor guy stammers something about improvising. Frank leans over. “That’s it. He’s done for.” “Unless he pulls off a miracle.” I add. “Let’s be real, though.” I sigh. “Yeah. He’s doomed.” The competition rages on, full of moments like this – moments of brillance, disasters narrowly avoided, and in Julian’s case, a full blown meltdown over “atrociously inferior cookware.” His exact phrasing. "Called it." Frank says smugly as Julian throws down his whisk.

She might as well concort poison if she fails to set the whole house ablaze. " Come on , do you have to make it sound so horrible?" Terry complained. It's not like she disliked cooking,it's Just that cooking never accepted her. She would end up chopping her fingers off is she tried using a knife or burn herself with oil. After trying majy times with no avail, she gave up trying. But that didn't make her feel any better. She envied those people who could cook with ease. She also wanted to be the same but it seems like it was an impossible task for her.