I am a terrific microwave chef; I can open a package and shove it in the nuker for four minutes with the best of them! Popcorn master, a baked potato king, the emperor of hot dogs. Move over, Julia Child, there’s a word-class convenience chef in the house. If it takes less than ten minutes to make, it’s the meal for me!
Mostly, because I stink at the other sort of cooking. “Omelets,” said Annie just now. “You can do a stir-fry.”
How embar-asking. But there you go, Truth.