The best meal I have ever made is chicken and vegetables tossed with pasta in a Parmesan sauce. Did I mention that it's a Lean Cuisine? In my 21 years of living, the hardest culinary skill I've acquired is how to appropriately vent the tops of frozen dinners.

I despise cooking. It's messy, time consuming and stressful, which is why I enjoy bagged salads, frozen dinners and takeout. I think cooking is a means to an end, a way to fuel my body throughout the course of the day.

(ENLARGE)

Taylor Dahl.

THE STUDENTS AND THEIR RECIPES Brittney Inman • Santa Fe Chili Kali Justus • Stuffed Pork Tenderloin • Kali's sister Destiny's Italian Tomato Cheesy Bread Rachel Jacques • Risotto with Garlic Shrimp and Sauteed Spinach Karlee Baumann • Indoor Barbecue Taylor Dahl • Corn Dip • Broccoli Casserole • Chocolate Poundcake In a hurry to cook? Read the short version of this feature on Evening Edge.

Obviously I am challenged in the kitchen, but you would be surprised to find out that my grandmothers are famous for their chocolate poundcakes and broccoli casseroles. My mother makes the spiciest corn dip, while my father makes the best barbecue chicken.

My grandmother Evelyn Dahl, or Ma, says when she's in the kitchen she will "keep [her] fingers crossed and hope that everything turns out all right," which makes me believe that anyone can cook as long as they have the right recipes. In order to find out if my cooking skills are a genetic flaw, I am challenging myself to cook dinner for my entire family featuring their famous dishes. I'll simply have to keep my fingers crossed during the entire process.

When I was younger, I looked forward to Sundays because I knew that I'd spend the entire day at Ma's quaint blue house in Mableton, where the sweet tea and conversation flowed endlessly throughout the day among the adults, while the kids splashed around in the pool. I also remember the food because it was Southern and delicious.

I decided that this self-imposed challenge would take place on a Sunday at 4 p.m., perfect for those suppers I'd grown so fond of as child. Setting the date and time was easy, now all I had to do was get the recipes, go to the grocery store, cook supper and entertain my guests. I hope this is a piece of cake — literally.

10 a.m.

I pull up to my parents' house to find my grandmother Betty Lawhorn waiting for my arrival. She isn't there to say "good morning" or to wish me luck. She is there to give me all the ingredients for the chocolate poundcake. She has even decided to measure the ingredients for me because the University of Georgia doesn't have classes on how to measure ingredients appropriately. I lost confidence in myself during the drive from Athens to Marietta, so my grandma measuring out the ingredients doesn't boost my ego.

11 a.m.

The shopping list for the supper is small because many of the ingredients were already in my mother's pantry — I just failed to realize that rice and cream of celery soup could turn into a casserole. I walk into Publix with my game face on and supply list in hand, marching through the aisles and skipping over my sacred chicken and vegetables for the first time. Fifty dollars later and I'm finally in the kitchen prepared for the long battle ahead.

11:51 a.m.

Time management is my biggest difficulty, which is why I find frozen dinners so appealing. When I get back to the house, I immediately ask my mother for time advice. She explains that I should bake the chocolate poundcake first because it doesn't have to be warm at the serving time. Now the not-so-fun part is about to begin.

Noon

I thought that, of all the dishes, I'd be the most confident with the cake because I've always loved baking brownies, muffins and cupcakes — anything out of a box. However, this time I am baking a cake from scratch and after mixing all the ingredients together, I become less confident with the texture and the color of the mixture. Reluctantly, I pour the batter into the pan and put it in the oven.

12:30 p.m.

Now it's getting down to crunch time. I quickly mix all of the ingredients and start cooking the corn dip.

1 p.m.

The casserole is interesting, to say the least. I decided to get Success Rice after several failed attempts to cook rice in the past. Luckily, I perfect the rice in just one try, but there is one minor glitch: metal bowls and microwaves don't mix. I am probably disgracing UGA by admitting this, but I did not know that you couldn't put metal in the microwave. Whoops. Luckily my dad saves the day and stops any ensuing fire. I finish the casserole and start preparing the chicken, sprinkling both sides with a powder called Harley's that my uncle Curt sends us from Austin, Texas — our family's secret to the best barbecue. After the rice debacle, though, my dad thinks it would be a good idea to supervise at the grill.

3:30 p.m.

The meal is finally coming together and, before I know it, my guests have arrived and it's time to eat!

4 p.m.

I anxiously watch my family gather around the dishes I've slaved over. I didn't try any of the dishes before serving them, so I am terrified that the casserole isn't cohesive, the cake is burnt and the corn dip is mushy. The first dish up on the judge's table is the corn dip. To my surprise, everyone loves it. Bite by bite, my family eats every little bit of food on their plates.

Every single family member seems to enjoy the food. Ma even tells me later, "Your Papa is still raving about the chicken!" Yet I'm still uncomfortable in the kitchen.

Cooking takes time, so it might be months or years before I feel completely confident in my skills as a cook. My family, however, seems to think I will do just fine because, as my grandfather is leaving, he turns to me and says, "I guess you're cooking Thanksgiving!"

Oh, Papa, guess again.