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.

Although her menu was very simple, she was thankful to Asya for patiently teaching her. A few times, Jess's kitchen ended up quite messy because of her experiments. Luckily, Jess wasn't angry and instead kept supporting her learning. She said, "Failure is necessary so that we know what's best for us in the future." Even though Fathia's kitchen failures had nothing to do with Jess's advice.

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.

"You know, Jeff. Anna can't cook." Anna turned to Rebecca as soon as she heard that. Her brows furrowed, confused why Rebecca suddenly brought it up. "She's been crushing fish while frying and adding too much water to the ramen. She's also been forgetting salt and black pepper when grilling steaks, and more," Rebecca continued by mentioning several examples before Anna could say anything. Well, Anna admitted that her cooking skills were so so. And yes, she had done everything Rebecca said.

I said. "Pretend I'm not here." "That's not possible." "Try." I turned back to the stove. The omelette required a specific pan, a specific heat, and a specific motion that I hadn't fully mastered. Too hot and the eggs seized. Too cool and they didn't move right. I'd failed four times in the heat. I got the pan right and added the butter and watched it. "The butter should foam but not brown," she said. "I know." "Just saying."

I thought he'd be intimidated but oh boy, this man just closed his eyes and shook his head, even went so far as to bring his forefingers in a crisscross. Seeing his nonchalant attitude, I felt my head twitching. "Nope. Not at all. Just leave the cooking to me." "What the? I'm not that bad at cooking!" "Shh! Unless you want to feed her black crusts, you need to stay put and just buy the ingredients. Don't try to retaliate, I have proof." Limwel brought out his phone and goddamn, he showed photos of multiple failed attempts of mine in the past. This shit seriously documented those embarrassing, tortured excuse of a gourmet food?!

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.

“What, you want me to cook?” “Now, that's an idea,” he nodded solemnly like he’d just proposed world peace. I snorted. “I can’t cook, Misha. Like, at all. Last time I tried to boil eggs, the kitchen alarm went off and Sebastian thought I started a fire.” “Good. You’re due for redemption.” “You want your wounded ass to be my cooking coach?” “I’ve survived wars, bullet wounds, and a bear trap once. I think I can survive your cooking.”