MacArthur Park

That's the song I was thinking of when I went out to pour some chicken grease in my special "pile" out doors where it decomposes with other non-compostables such as meat (which actually do compost, but one probably wouldn't want to mix them with other materials that don't stink as much and compost more rapidly). 

The puke-like bit in the picture is actually a carrot cake missing two pieces, made by J this weekend.  It has since rained on it, and that's what made me think of that song.  J's been screwing up a lot in the kitchen, and that cake was just one recent example.  Mr. K and I concluded she needs more supervision since she doesn't have any basic common sense since she's only got limited experience.  In this case, she made a carrot cake without peeling the carrots before shredding them.  Her recipe did not mention that needed to be done.  There were other problems, too.  The frosting was good, but the cake itself was rather nasty.

Two days ago J made a cherry pie from frozen crust, and spilled it all over the bottom of the oven when she removed it after it was done.  You see, she hadn't put the pie plate (disposable aluminum plate that came frozen with the crust) onto a cookie sheet and it crumpled under its weight.  No one told her you have to use a cookie sheet under the pie.

It seems that there were a couple other things, too, but I can't remember what they were.  Now J needs to wait until Mr. K or I have time to help her learn how to cook before she goes into the kitchen following a recipe blindly.