About the Author

Sarah Bessey is the author of Jesus Feminist, a disarming and beautiful invitation to the Kingdom of God waiting on the other side of the Church’s gender debates. She is an award-winning blogger at www.sarahbessey.com, an editor at A Deeper Story, a contributor for SheLoves Magazine, and a passionate advocate...

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  1. I have two words. Liver loaf. The great horror of my youth. We didn’t get meat often when I was a child and my father had been given some liver from a local in our village. You couldn’t just cook and eat meat in Nepal so he pressure cooked it and it ended up foaming up into a pink cloud. To make it go down, he pressed it into a pan and tried to bake it like a meatloaf. All I can say is, NO! That should never happen to any child anywhere. Needless to say, we ended up eating dahl and rice as usual.

  2. Sarah,
    I got a real chuckle from your garlic story…what a hoot! My cooking disaster came about when my dad was diagnosed with a gluten intolerance back in the 80’s (before much was known about gluten allergies). There were no gluten free packaged foods and I believe there was a total of one cookbook out with gluten-free recipes. My dad loved bread, so my mom and I tried baking him all sorts of bread with rice flour and other substitute ingredients, but every loaf of bread came out the same – like a brick. They were AWFUL…we jokingly said we could use them as door stops lol.
    Blessings,
    Bev

    • Oh, my goodness! I sometimes think of the “first ones” trying out new diets or ways of cooking and here you are! Hope he’s enjoying the new “gluten-free” options now. 🙂

  3. If you ladies think you can’t cook, you haven’t heard my story yet. When my now fiance and I first started dating he was still in the Army National Guard and got state-side deployed one weekend during a bad ice storm in our home town. He had already been feeling like he was coming down with a cold, and then after being awake for 48 hours on duty he was miserable by Sunday. When he finally came home I offered to make him some feel-better Ramen noodle soup (I know, how kind of me right?) I honestly had never even made Ramen before; everyone else had always made it for, me but how hard could it be, right? So I followed the directions on the package…boil the water, add the noodles, add the packet of seasoning and stir. And then I drained the water. This step was NOT on the package. But it’s pasta, so I automatically assumed you drain the water; I didn’t realize/remember it was supposed to be a soup per se. So I bring my fiance the bowl of now-cool clumpy seasoned pasta thinking I’m the greatest caretaker in the world. He takes one look in the bowl, then at me, and says in the sweetest way possible through his head cold “Oh, you drained the water?…That’s ok.” And he starts eating. And then it dawns on me that I failed to make Ramen noodles correctly. Pathetic. But it’s the thought that counts, right? 🙂

    I’ve now made Ramen dozens of times for him since then and I’m happy to say I’ve nailed it everytime…and never again drained the water.

    -Jenna

    • my husband “taught” me how to make ramen – dumping the water before the seasoning. I wondered why everyone thought it was soup and talked about the broth. we actually like the noodles w/o water (although i’d guess that you probably dumped half the seasoning)

  4. I have nothing but a big smile on my face and a chuckle in my belly and I will LAUGH all day. I have too many disasters to share about here, but I will leave you with 3 words: hot dog spaghetti.
    Love the way you write Sarah. You stretch me out of my comfortable way of thinking and make me want to own my thoughts about faith. Thank you for the ways you serve the body.

  5. I once tried to double a chocolate pudding cake recipe. I though the recipe called for 1 1/3 cups of milk, I put in 2 2/3 cups only to realize it only called for 1/3 cup and I’d managed to octuple the recipe. I tried to cram the batter into as few pans as possible and it bubbled over into my stove. It didn’t help that this was the same week I decided to make (far too many) enchiladas for my Spanish class, so my husband and I ate the same meal all week.

  6. I have a couple of stories of disasters. I was baking for a fundraiser, and I promised I would make four cheesecakes. I now am known for my cheesecakes. After the cheesecake is baked, my recipe says to broil until attractive light brown spots appear on the top of the cheesecake. I walked away and I know not to do this, but I was trying to do multiple things to finish the cheesecakes. One of the kids screamed the cheesecake is on fire. My family wanted to throw baking soda on it to put it out. I said no. So as calmly as I could muster, I took the cheesecake out of the oven and yelled for someone to open the door to put the cheesecake outside in the snow. I covered the cheesecake with a pan to put the fire out as I carried it outside. I thought about what I should do. It was late and if I went to the store and started over, I would not get to bed that night literally. I carefully scraped off the burned top and covered it with sauteed apples and cinnamon caramel sauce and arranged it to look like a rose. It looked like a good disguise. I held my breath the next day as I was selling the slices of cheesecake wondering how bad this was going to be. The customers said it was very good and other people came by to purchase a slice saying they heard how good the apple cheesecake is. So, until now, no one knew I scraped off the charred top of a cheesecake anyway and sold it disguised as a “I planned it this way”!

  7. Aha! Yes, there is a huge difference between a bulb and a clove! Garleeeeeeeeeek! : )
    I got to share with my sister on our annual sister retreat the difference between the two and she said she would have done exactly as you and your beau had done.

    I’m happy for your sake and the sake of those in your breathing space that you learned the difference.

    Thanks for sharing your story with humor! I enjoyed it!

  8. Oh. Sarah. I promise I’m laughing with you! 🙂

    Don’t hate me but no cooking disasters come to mind. My grandma and mom taught me to cook and I always loved helping them out in the kitchen. I must be lucky their skills transferred so well!

  9. OH this is great! When we first got married I tried to recreate our first date!! Haaaaa!! I burned the salmon so bad it stuck in the pan,not only did I forgot to put olive oil in the pan, I slathered the fish in honey and brown sugar It was a charred, stuck on, flake of something, and my poor hubby CHOKED it down, we still roll on the floor laughing about it.

  10. When I was fresh out of college and still single, I used my friends and boyfriend (now husband) as guinea pigs in my culinary experiments. One weekend when said boyfriend was visiting, I wanted to make a “proper” Sunday dinner: oven-roasted chicken, homemade dressing … and I don’t remember what else was on the menu. All I know is that I followed the recipe exactly. However I was too inexperienced to realize that 3 Tablespoons of sage might be a bit much for a small batch of dressing. It was edible – but barely. And yes, I went back and confirmed that’s what the recipe called for. After 17 years of marriage, my husband still reminds me of it – all he has to say is “sage”

    • I remember making a mistake like that once. That’s the key, isn’t it? We usually only make those kinds of mistakes ONCE. After that, we check and double check! 🙂 Thanks for sharing!

  11. My husband and I did the exact same thing with garlic! When we found out I had been accepted to a PhD program fully funded, he wanted to make me a special dinner. The recipe only called for 2 cloves of garlic and he used two bulbs… It was the only meal to date that we had to throw away the leftovers!

    • I still can’t believe we ate those meals. I guess when you’re young and used to eating cereal, you’ll eat anything. You had the right idea to toss it.

  12. My husband and young daughter decided one Mother’s Day to make me an omelet from the recipe on the egg carton. The only problem was that words and numbers don’t print very well on bumpy egg carton surfaces. What was supposed to be 1/8 tsp. of salt they read as 8 tsp. Eight teaspoons of salt in one little omelet! There were definitely leftovers that day. 🙂

  13. Mine has to do with Thanksgiving. My parents lived in Franklin, TN and I lived in Memphis. I would always go their house for Thanksgiving but sometimes was not able to leave until that morning. One year my dad was smoking a turkey breast since it was only going to be the 3 of us. Apparently he decided at some point during the process to add some more charcoal. He did not remember that the charcoal was the kind with the added lighter fluid. The turkey breast was beautiful. Incredibly juicy and tender but… tasted like a piece of charcoal! We had to throw it away so no turkey that year. It was a continual tease with my dad. He was always good natured about it. Especially since my mother made a “rubber chicken” a couple of Thanksgivings prior. And then there was her green dressing for the turkey another year!

  14. Oh, honey, don’t feel bad! We in the parenting business call those times “learning experiences!” Here’s mine: as a kid, I was a chocolate FIEND. Ok, as a human, I AM a chocolate fiend! I had found a recipe for “no-bake cookies” which really spoke to my soul. So I made them all. the. time. Once, when I was really craving some chocolate, we were out of oatmeal (an essential ingredient). What did I substitute? Corn flakes (yes, the cereal). Now, before you cringe, just know that the “cookies” tasted exactly the same. Ok, so you had to scoop them off the cookie sheet with a spoon, but chocolate was still chocolate. Can I get an amen?

  15. What a delightful trip down memory lane (mine) reading all these posts has been! There was the time, as a young military wife who had never cooked a turkey, that our first Thanksgiving guest was carving the turkey and discovered some stuff in a paper bag. Who knew the turkey had two holes? Not me. Or another time when I was trying to get just the right color of frosting on my #1 son’s birthday cake and ended up with yucky gray frosting. And then, of course, there is my children’s favorite: the time that I made hot dog shaped hamburgers because I only had hot dog rolls on hand. I’ll leave it to your imagination what some of the comments were from my younger sons about what they looked like! Thanks for the memories!