I really and truly love the idea of cooking. I love the utensils, the pots and pans, the wonderful aroma in my home. I'm just not all that good at it. I try my best, but something always goes wrong. Not terribly, horribly wrong. I don't start fires, or have difficulty boiling water, but there will usually be one aspect of my meal that just isn't quite "right". I will make a beautiful stew, and the potatoes will be raw. There is always something. I have, however, mastered a salmon recipe from Jamie Oliver's The Naked Chef cookbook... unfortunately I am the only one in my family who will eat salmon. My last attempt at a nice, homemade dinner was inspired by a neat, little chicken cookbook, which was a gift from a girlfriend of mine. She assured me that the recipes were simple (I should mention this friend subscribes to, and catalogs every copy of 'Bon Apetite' magazine). I tried a recipe for Sicilian Roasted Chicken. The picture in the cookbook looked wonderful. Mine didn't look anything like the picture in the cookbook. Mine didn't look cooked. Julian took one mouthful and said: "Eeeew... disgusting.". The rest of the table fell silent, and kept on (slowly) chewing. Come to think of it - that was right before we all came down with that nasty flu.