Seriously, folks. This has got to stop.
Many moons ago, at my bridal shower put together by my loving and wonderful aunt Libbie, I had a lot of dearly beloved female relatives give me cookbooks. Some of them had titles that involved some frantic call for assistance. I smiled and thanked them. I thought (stupidly, naively) that surely cooking was the least of my concerns. “I’m smart. I’ve got experience in the kitchen (I make a darn good batch of brownies). I can do this. Nooooo problem.”
Well, ha ha ha. And ha. Ha.
I have had many massive flops, some rather edible meals, and one or two rather glorious successes (posole, my first attempt at making Mom’s chili recipe; thanks Mom!). My most recent frustration comes from my two (count ’em, two) attempts to make tuna noodle casserole.
Wait, really? Tuna casserole?
Yes. Tuna casserole. Go ahead and laugh.
I wanted to make something really delicious and a bit decadent. A basic tuna casserole just isn’t fit for my hubby or me, right? Except for the fact that it had brie, and the texture was all wrong, and there were too many onions, and we don’t actually like brie. Wish I’d known that beforehand.
So Kevin, in all of his lovingness, tells me that it’s ok, I should try again. “But this time…something simple, right?” Right. I try again….Campbell’s should give me good results, right?
Dry? Tasteless? Demoralizing? Yes, yes, and oh my yes.
I have found that I make a darn good Hamburger Helper, though. We’re not starving, no worries; Olive Garden is 20 minutes away, and Walmart carries an excellent selection of frozen pizzas. Frozen veggies, too, which I am eternally grateful for.
So if anybody has a nice, creamy, delicious tuna casserole recipe they’d be willing to share, please pass it along. My tummy will thank you.