Fire In The Pie Hole

I pride myself on being a good cook. Exceptionally good. I grew up in a kitchen. My mother worked nights as a nurse and as soon as I was able to work the stove without setting myself on fire, I began preparing meals for the family to take the burden off my mom a bit.

In all of my culinary life, I've had very few failures. The first year hubby and I were married, I attempted to broil some steaks. I'd never used an electric stove before---and the steaks ended up charred beyond recognition.

Last night I experienced yet another epicurean disaster. A month or so ago, I'd tasted something called "chicken tikka masala" that was being demo'd at that fancy kitchen store, Williams Sonoma. It was really yummy! Well, I can't afford to buy their $8.00 a jar sauces, so I decided I'd go to the local ethnic market and purchase some tikka masala sauce there and save myself some money.

Yesterday I cut the chicken breasts into chunks as recommended, mixed the sauce with some yogurt and slathered the chicken in it to marinate for several hours.

When it was time to cook the chicken, I threw in some carrots and potatoes and put it in a slow oven for an hour or so.

I served the CTM, as it's lovingly called in Britain, over steamed rice.

I took one bite and my nose began running like a faucet. After the second bite, I could no longer feel my tongue. After the third bite, I was afraid to talk because I feared I would be breathing fire.

I looked over at hubby and the Undeserving Relative. Neither of them were faring any better than I. I went to the kitchen and slathered everything with plain yogurt and they did the same but with sour cream. Didn't work.

I shook my head in disgust and took my plate to the kitchen. When he could speak, hubby declared that this was the first time in years and years I'd made something so horrible that it was completely inedible.

How about you? Any miserable failures in your past you'd like to share, culinary or otherwise?