A college gal's re-acquaintance with her lonely stove- Brown sugar chicken with apples and Alfredo pasta

Most young girls learn to cook from their mothers. Unfortunately, my mother wasn’t exactly gifted in the kitchen. It just wasn’t her thing. So, three years ago when I went off to college, I was on my own. The past two years, I have fed myself everyday on university meal plans, Lean Cuisine and Easy Mac, but as a junior in college I’ve decided it’s time for a change. I’m about to learn the inner workings of the least-used utility in my apartment: the oven.

Last weekend my boyfriend, Joe, came to visit and I decided that I was going to prepare a nice meal to welcome him. In my attempt to be more domestic, I wrote out a list of everything I would need: chicken, apples, brown sugar, red wine, asparagus, pasta and Alfredo sauce. My recipe was chicken breasts covered with a brown sugar and red wine sauce with diced apples complemented with asparagus and Alfredo noodles on the side.

Once I got to the grocery store, it took me a little while to find everything. I was looking around at all these soccer moms with their lists, on a mission. They knew exactly where they were going. The only aisle I knew down-pat was the frozen foods section.

At the checkout line, in nervous haste, I spilled my items onto the conveyor belt, watching as the cashier rung them out item by item. She gave me a funny look as I was tapping my debit card on the counter anxiously. She probably knew it was my first time doing this, and that it was for a guy (I think the wine tipped her off).

When I got home, I unloaded everything onto the counter and took a big breath. Then I realized: I was late. I took to much time in the grocery store. Joe was going to be there in an hour and a half, and that’s NOT very much time for an inexperienced cook.

I started cooking the chicken on the stove on medium heat while I boiled the water for my pasta. As I was waiting to turn it over to the other side, my roommate walked in and covered the pan with the glass lid without saying a word. Oops! Then I put in the pasta to cook for a while and in the meantime, cut up the asparagus to throw into another pan with butter, salt and pepper.

I was lucky, no kitchen fires for me that night. But I still had a long way to go. I had to make the sauce. This is by far the hardest thing I’ve ever done in the kitchen. I had to add the perfect combination of wine, brown sugar and butter so it wouldn’t be too thick or too thin.

It was too thin. Why?! I forgot cornstarch. Shoot! After having a mini breakdown, I tried to come up with a solution. Then for some irrational reason I thought adding a little more butter would make it thicker but it only made the taste a little, well…buttery. But I figured, “What the heck, I’ll use it anyway.” It actually didn’t taste too bad with the chicken and diced apples.

Right before the pasta was finished, Joe walked in. My jaw dropped. I was so embarrassed that I wasn’t done yet, but thankfully he didn’t mind. When I finished, we sat down and had a nice time talking, but I was so nervous that all I could do was ask him how everything tasted. He said he loved it, but isn’t that what all guys are supposed to say? I guess the only true way to know if someone likes your meal is if they clear their plate and ask for seconds … and if they don’t get sick.