My son thinks he can cook

In case you haven't heard (I can't imagine that you haven't) Andrew has moved back home.
This in itself is more stressful than you can even imagine.
He has been on his own for almost two years. So the idea of going back to any kind of rules alludes him. He is used to coming and going as he pleases, having friends over (including the new girlfriend) at all hours of the night, playing his music too loud, talking on his phone too loud, getting out of the shower without drying off first (or turning the water off for that matter), not cleaning out the bathroom sink. He is certainly not used to his 12 year old sister wanting to be part of his life. The list is endless.
I make the rules, he bucks them (the apple didn't fall far).

He does however get on me about eating out too much. I suppose this is a good thing for him to complain about. We do indulge in the convenience of fast food, far more often that is reasonable or healthy.

My argument to him is "pick a night and you can cook". There is just a slight problem with this idea.. MY SON CANNOT COOK.

Last night. Actually it was like 1 o'clock this morning, he decided that he was hungry. So he went through the freezer (since he's been home the food supply there has gone down immensely).
Anyway, he found a bag of frozen french fries.
I need to interject here that I can and do cook occasionally. But I do not fry. For a couple reasons. It's not healthy (because apparently McDonalds is) and because deep frying is a mess I choose not to deal with.

So at 1am, I'm finally able to doze off. For a minute. I was woke up by this smell. I can't even describe it. But my bedroom was filled with it. I figured he was cooking something and rolled over. But it just kept getting worse. I could feel my nostrils clogging, my head aching, my stomach turning. It was horrid.

When I finally got up, the kitchen was dark. There was an empty pan on top of the stove, the oven was on and the lad was nowhere to be seen (I assumed he had taken whatever he cooked down to his room). But I still could not clear myself of the smell.
I sat on the couch waiting for it to wane. It didn't. So I called him (yes I was calling the basement of the house I was sitting in). He didn't answer. I laid down on the couch but the smell was still too strong to sleep.
Finally I walked down to his room. Empty. He seriously cooked this shit and then left in the middle of the night. I opened a couple windows and the front door. Lit a candle and called him again. He answered. He was at a friends house. Whatever.. I was pissed, but not about that (yet).
I said "what the hell did you cook". He said "french fries".
Okay "what the hell did you put on them?" He said "garlic powder".
He put a half a spice jar worth of garlic powder on a 1/4 bag of frozen french fries and then put them in the oven. It seems he must have forgotten about it because when I looked closer at the pan, there was half a spice jar of burnt garlic powder on it.
This is no lie, I inhaled so much garlic in the middle of the night, that I had garlic breath all day today. It is seriously still stuck in my nose hair. I can't stop smelling it, almost 24 hours later.

During our phone call, I asked him one last question "when did you say you were moving out?".