MadameNoire Featured Video

Shutterstock

Shutterstock

I was raised at the hem of my grandmother’s green apron, but that doesn’t mean I can cook. I never helped in the kitchen. Instead, I played with Black Barbies and toy cars while grandma stirred sauces and pushed roasting pans into the oven. As a result, I’m now one of those adults who orders in like it’s their job. The shame is real, so, at the beginning of 2016, I decided to stop paying every delivery person in New York City to feed me. I’d learn to use my own damn kitchen.

If you browse Internet ads, you’ve probably come across Blue Apron, the subscriber-based company that sends weekly boxes of gourmet recipes (with all the ingredients) right to your door. I’d been curious about it for some time, and when I logged onto the site, I was astounded to discover dishes like fresh beet linguine with goat cheese, Swiss chard, and toasted walnuts were available to me. I raised my fist in triumph. This was a long way from my grandmother’s style of cooking, but with one click, I would officially step my entire life up. Not only would I eat better (most of Blue Apron’s food is locally sourced and farm-raised), but I could finally tell my stupid online dates that I make fancy ass foods. I entered my credit card info with visions of Instagrammed dinners and clever hashtags in my head. I was about to become a dark-skinned Ayesha Curry.

Sadly, there’s more than one way to make a #struggleplate.

When my first box arrived, immediately I attempted to make chicken meatballs and creamy polenta with tomato sugo and Lacinato kale.

Insert your side-eye here…

I ignored the ghost of my grandmother smirking in the corner, and diligently cut up the kale in strips as they instructed. I Googled how to mince garlic (don’t judge me) and crushed each clove like a champ. I formed each chicken meatball by hand – molding 12 teeny tiny balls of chicken flesh. Blue Apron supplied a spice blend – onion powder, garlic powder, fennel seed, bay leaves, and cayenne pepper. I added my own salt and pepper as instructed. My grandma’s famous turkey meatballs were three times this size and had more seasoning than I can count, but I didn’t have the confidence to reach for the Adobo waiting patiently in my cupboard.

“Chicken is tasteless if you don’t season it well,” my mother warned when I called her to consult. I didn’t listen.

The result: bland porridge, dusted with cheese and tomato sauce, garnished with tiny meatballs, and flavorless kale. No amount of salt and pepper could right this wrong. Still, having very little familiarity with polenta, I dismissed this as a fluke. Maybe I just don’t know what it’s supposed to taste like.

The lamb with sautéed spinach and olive mashed potatoes was when I realized what I now know is true: Blue Apron ain’t for Black folks, at least not Black folks raised on cooked food and seasoned meat. For the month that I tried Blue Apron, I went on an international tour of blandness – there was lemon linguine, there was chicken schnitzel, there was cod and udon, and there were mushroom dumplings. The box that featured Trinidadian chicken curry was where I decided to draw the line. My dad is from the West Indies, and I wasn’t going to sully my kitchen with anything even attempting to be Trinidadian.

It’s not that the dishes were terrible, they were more like the epitome of banquet foods – designed to please the masses. They were like TV dinners I had to make myself. So my friends, while there are LOTS of Blue Apron reviews on the Internet, none of them will tell you what I’m about to tell you: you won’t enjoy these meals unless you season, marinade, and pray. Even then, you might feel like you’re chewing cotton.

I ended up canceling my Blue Apron account, but I learned how to use my own kitchen in the process. For that alone, I thank Blue Apron. I think my grandmother would be proud.

Have you ever tried Blue Apron or one of the other food boxes? What were your experiences like?

Comment Disclaimer: Comments that contain profane or derogatory language, video links or exceed 200 words will require approval by a moderator before appearing in the comment section. XOXO-MN