There is absolutely no valid reason why any woman needs to master the art of chocolate chip cookie baking. However, self-sufficiency and independence in the kitchen is something all people should aspire to. Especially if you are a New Yorker and ordering Thai take-out every other night can become a legitimate budget breaker. Not speaking personally.
This “incident” occurred the other night and yes, there was a certain humorous element to the whole ordeal (well, once we fanned out the plumes of chocolately smoke into the hallway and the fire detector stopped beeping, it was humorous). But immediately afterwards I began to feel rather lame. First off, now we had no delicious treats. But on a philosophical level, why can I not bake the tamest of desserts, the really not elusive Nestle Tollhouse chocolate chip cookie? These little puppies smoked up the entire apartment, and the scent of dough aflame is still gently billowing in faint exhaust clouds down the hallway. My poor roommates tried to eat the charcookies in a miraculous display of personal endorsement. But kindness is rarely a match for burnt charcoal on the tongue. After one or two crunches, all pretenses ceased. The feigned smiles shrank into the kind of wincing that is usually only reserved for sensations of intense pain. The martyr-mouthed roommates and I had no choice but to dump out the goods.
Anyway, it is apparent that honing my cooking skills is a near-necessity, so that I am at least no longer a fire hazard to my entire apartment building. On the other hand, Thai take-out is quite delicious, and I enjoy writing restaurant reviews, so I may as well look at my kitchen handicap as a professional positive and try that new overpriced Tuscan-Mexican fusion place in Alphabet City.