So here's the thing. By my own admission, I am incredibly skilled at botching, to an exorbitant degree, even the simplest of culinary tasks. Take for example this attempt to make a box of Kraft macaroni and cheese for lunch:

If you are unfamiliar with my cooking style, please refer to Cooking with Michelle, Episode I: Quiche Lorraine, paragraphs 1-2, which outline a standard Bartleman approach to food preparation, ending appropriately with the words "Oh ... crap ... "

So ... yeah ... ummm ... today I managed to ... burn? Sear? Scorch? Decimate? Obliterate? Annihilate? Man ... there are just no words to accurately describe what I accomplished in the kitchen this afternoon. Let's just say that the macaroni was a little bit overdone by the time I remembered I was cooking. And that the pot was a little, ummm ... I want to say charred, but that just seems like such a mild word in comparison to the black, scorched, steaming disaster that was staring up at me from the depths of my husband's good cooking pot once the smoke had finally cleared, all the alarms had been dismantled and the fire brigade had been sent home.

The sad truth of the matter? I have been making Kraft Dinner and Cheese since the first night my parents explained to me that it was a "Get-Your-Own-Supper" night back in grade three. I survived six years of university solely on PB and Js, top ramen, and mac and cheese. I have successfully prepared HUNDREDS of boxes of KD in my lifetime (except for that one time, when something very similar may have occurred in the kitchen of our apartment with the pots of one of the "several former roommates" mentioned in the beginning of Cooking with Michelle, Episode I).

What on earth am I going to feed myself at lunch now when Jason isn't around to supervise? My only other noontime staple is perogies on the George Foreman grill. And after this, I am pretty sure there are security cameras and laser systems that alert the fire department (among other authorities) to my very entrance into a kitchen - forget about any attempts to plug in an electrical cooking appliance.

Sigh. Stay tuned for the next episode of Cooking with Michelle, when, after our microwave bit the dust, I tried to heat up a glass plate of toast on the stove-top burner. Don't ask.

I just made cookies, scaling the recipe by two thirds because I only had 1/2 cup of brown sugar instead of the 3/4 cup that was called for.

First of all, let's marvel at the fact that I was able to figure out that the difference between 1/2 and 3/4 is 2/3 without having an aneurysm.

But I am pretty sure my head exploded at some point in the process of multiplying each ingredient by 66.66666666667 per cent. Or maybe it was trying to figure out how to add half an egg that did me in.

By the end I couldn't even be bothered to drop the cookies in rounds on the baking tray. So I just flipped the whole bowl over and flattened the whole concoction into the pan.

And this has been "Cooking with Michelle." Tune in next week when I attempt lasagna.

If you were in attendance at my wedding reception, you would have heard stories from several former roomates regarding my somewhat limited cooking abilities.

If you weren't at my wedding reception, then let's just say a cooking session in which I am involved generally goes something like this: "Okay, heat frying pan and add 2 tablespoons of olive oil. Check. Cheque? Oh that reminds me, I need to go online and see if that cheque went through. Oooohhh ... new email. Oh, hey there's Jay online ... 'Hey, how's work?' 'Fine, what are you up to?' Hmmm... it seems to me I was in the middle of something. Oh, yeah I have to put that laundry in. Hey, I wonder if Kirsten facebooked me back. I'll check. Check? Oh yeah, the cheque ... Oohhh ... new facebook pictures. Oh that reminds me, I need to download those picts off my camera. Ooohhh a picture of dessert I took at that restaurant last week. Yum. I wonder what we are having for dinner. Oh wait ... I'm cooking ... crap ... "

So, it seems to me, that I would make a great cooking show host. Especially if the comedy channel picked up the show.

The other day I decided to make quiche for dinner (well ... the menu decided that quiche would be served for dinner, and seeing as I was the only individual standing in, or near, my kitchen, by default I became the one who would be making the quiche.)

And so begins Cooking with Michelle, Episode 1: Quiche Lorraine. Which goes something like this:

La-la-la. Okay Betty Crocker, what have we got here? Make two pie crusts. No problem (for some reason my kitchen impairments only apply to food preparations classified as cooking, and not those considered baking. I have successfully made many a pie crust in my life, so when I say pie crusts - no problem, I am actually not being sarcastic. Just to clarify. Because I have occasionally been known to employ sarcasm).

Flour, shortening, salt. Cut, cut, pat, pat, roll, roll, vroop into the pie plate, et voila.

Okay, next, some ham. I think I will fry it up ...

Okay next. Four eggs into a bowl (again, seeing as eggs are a regular baking ingredient, I can generally manage an adequate shell-to-bowl transfer).

Whisk them around. Done.

Add some salt and pepper. Check. (Cheque? Oh yeah, I need to see if that cheque cleared ... wait ... focus ... I am cooking ... Jason says I am not allowed to leave the kitchen when I try to cook ... )

Add cream or half-and-half. Cream? Oh oh. Ahh, whatever, milk ... cream, same difference. Kay, 2 cups of 1% milk into the egg mix.

Wait a minute ... I wonder if cream is thicker than 1% milk? Hmmm ... am I going to have runny quiche? I HATE runny quiche.

Hmmm ... maybe if I use the beaters and whip it up like egg whites? Maybe it will thicken ...

Whrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. Nope.

Beep-boop-boop-beep-blip-bop-beep-beep. "Bartlemans. Out. Message. Beep." Ahh crap, not home. "Hey mom, it's me. Ummm ... I am making quiche ... can I put in 1% milk instead of cream? Or more accurately, do you know what happens when you put in milk instead of cream? That's all. Bye."

Hmmm ... maybe Betty has something about substitutions for cream in the back here. Hopefully the answer is 1% milk ... Let's see ... cream ... cream ... crap.

Oh wait, I have that Campbell's sub chart on the fridge. Yes! Cream ... use milk and butter. Sweet! Excet I don't have butter. Oh well ... butter ... margarine ... same thing.

Kay, couple scoops of I-Can't-Believe-it's-Not-Butter. I can't believe I am even allowed in kitchens ...

Hmmm ... nice glob of I-Can't-Believe-it's-Not-Butter floating in the middle of my egg/milk mix.

Whrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

Hmmm ... nice layer of many globs of I-Can't-Believe-it's-Not-Butter covering my entire egg/milk mix.

Hey, I know. I'll put it in the microwave and melt the butter.

Bing! Nice ... it totally worked!

Whrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

Perfect. Next? Sniff ... is something burning?

Oh crap ... HAM!

Ummm ... okay if I just scrape off the burnt part, no prob ... and dump it into my pie crusts. Good ... add some cheese ... poor in my egg/milk mixture.

Okay oven ... do you thing.

Hmmm ... boring. What am I going to do know? Wait ... put the timer on ... at least that will remind me there's probably a fire happening ...

La-la-la.

How bout I turn the overn light on, then I can check on it ... flick. Check? Cheque ... oh yeah that cheque ... no ... focus ... stay in the kitchen. Jason says I have to saty in the kitchen when I try to cook. Okay ... dishes ... I can do dishes ...

[45 minutes later]

Beep ... beep ... beep ... tada!

See? I told you it would be a good cooking show ... what with the twist ending, where two perfect Quiche Lorraines come out of the oven and you can actually hear the disbelief in my voice when I take the first bite and say "Geez .. .this is really good!"

But even the regular ending, which generally involves fire, blood, something stuck to the walls and/or ceiling, and a variety of alarms, makes for an equally satisfying cooking show.