I have found my future career. It’s not in writing, it’s surely not acting and it isn’t becoming the future apprentice of my girl, Ina Garten. Oh no, it’s none of those mid-level careers. Instead I have found my future calling in something much more elegant and complicated, something that requires true talent and devotion: the creation of dog food.

I was in the grocery store a few days ago and decided to try my hand at the challenge that I posed to myself—making a meal out of four main ingredients. At first I was very confident that I would be able to choose something monumental—that my creation would be worthy of the Food Network. That my trained hands (ha!) would be able to graze the shelves and shelves of food, carefully selecting ingredients that would make a veritable feast, worthy of Ina’s recognition.

Well. For reasons unbeknownst to me, I chose the following ingredients: Rice, Kidney Beans, Chicken Broth and Mushrooms. I think in my mind I was feeling sick of Italian food and nostalgic for my momma’s soup. But I’m not sure how that insatiable longing for soup translated into these incompatible ingredients. I should have stuck with pasta.

So, I trudged home, believing that what I held in my bag would create a delectable soup, something that would dissolve the cold front that has just settled into the hills of Perugia.

First things first. I could tell there was something off in my decision when I opened the can of beans. They smelled like the Alpo dog food and Meaty Bones that we used to feed to our dogs Amos and Bailey. I know this smell for two reasons: 1.) I liked to be the one to feed the dogs. 2.) I also liked to eat the Meaty Bones and sniff the Alpo dog food.

I know this is truly disturbing and disgusting for you to read, but think of how appalled I was when I realized that my nose, senses and memory unconsciously directed me back down dogfood lane. It was a disheartening moment for me.

I think at the time, the combination of my hungry belly and desire to create something inherently good overcame the niggling voice in the back of my mind—telling me to throw out the beans.

In another pan I sautéed the mushrooms in tandem with adding chicken broth to the simmering beans. I then poured the rice and water into the pot, threw in the mushroom and a bay leaf and left my Alpo to bake.

Despite my efforts to improve the dish (salt, pepper, rosemary, etc.), the meal reminded me of those shameful evenings in which I was caught behind my grandmother’s curtains, shoveling dog bones into my mouth.

With one taste of that hideous creation, it was swiftly tossed into the trash. I have no idea what I am doing in this complicated world of cooking.

Trial Two: Beer Battered Deep Fried Chicken. Wish me luck.