The Girl Who Cried Food Poisoning

Dearest fellow bloggers, I've learned that cooking really is a dangerous activity when you have no clue what you're doing. Not only are you in danger of cutting yourself, slipping in whatever has fallen on the floor, burning yourself on the stove top, getting chilli flakes in your eyes, or choking on spices, you're also highly susceptible to food poisoning. It therefore saddens me greatly to tell you that I'm 90% sure I've become a victim of exactly this. Even worse, I have been poisoned not by myself but by my own dear mother who, after reading my blog, probably realized that her daughter, who was living off of pureed couscous, brick-y borscht, and cheese toast, could use some help. She cooked a beautiful meal of spinach and rice, fried mushrooms, and pork schnitzel. The Schnitzel, I noted, was slightly pink. Before I go on, I think this story needs a little bit of background. I'm a bit of a hypochondriac and I suffered from anxiety attacks for the greater portion of last year. People tend to get a bit frustrated with me when I complain about headaches, stomachaches, and food poisoning, and I can't say I blame them. I used to be normal until my sister got into med school and informed me that my minor tummy aches could be a possible sign of AAA- (basically, my heart could explode at any given moment)- that my need to pee more than three times a day was probably a sign of kidney failure"- and that the bags under my eyes were a definite sign of pregnancy. So you can understand my concern when she looked at my slightly pink pork, shrugged, and said in her casual dr's tone "the worms found in undercooked pork won't hurt you, if they do affect you at all they'll eat away your brain and give you really bad headaches and seizures but that's all." So you'll forgive me for being a little picky about this pork. Unfortunately, I have been overly cautious in the past about food poisoning. People usually don't like cooking meat for me because I'll examine it for ten minutes in the light prior to eating, and when I finally decide it looks alright I'll put it in my mouth, only to spit it out again when no one's looking and check that it hasn't gotten any pinker while I wasn't watching it. I guess I understand why everyone at the table wanted me to just shut up and eat my pork. I swear that I have food poisoning now, but I suppose it may not have been from the pork since my head feels OK and my brain feels relatively full... but for the moment I have no interest in meat whatsoever and will therefore not be cooking stew this week as promised. For now, I'll put the beef I bough at safeway into, alas, the freezer, for a time when I forgive meat for destroying my stomach and (god forbid) eating my brains.