Cooking 101

I had a strange realization today: I think I might like to cook.

Over the years, I've had no patience for it. My husband, T., generally does a majority of the cooking; partly because he is an exceptional cook, partly because his cooking is a necessity for the two of us to be able to eat to survive since I typically don't cook. When I do cook, it's from the same repertoire: some sort of Mexican food (tacos, fajitas, or a random creation called taco pie that my mom makes); some form of pasta with a basic red sauce and garlic toast; or a MorningStar patty with a side. My go-to baking item? Banana bread.

It's a running joke with my family that I can't cook. When I was in sixth grade, I burned cheese that my only task was to stir and watch it -- fail on my part. The few times my childhood friend, Leah, and I made cookies together in junior high school and high school, we always had an epic fail -- notably the runny cookie batter that we had to bake as one large cookie. A series of other incidents have followed me leading to my reputation as a "bad cook". So when it comes time for family dinners and assignments for who's bringing which dish, I inevitably get tasked with "alcohol" (unless they know T. is onboard for bringing it).

My mom thinks she failed me in this capacity. She's an amazing cook, as was her mother. When I was growing up, I just didn't have the patience for learning how to make a pot roast or deviled eggs. I could tolerate baking (such as cookies and muffins), but anything beyond that was beyond my attention capacity. So whenever my limitations as a cook come up in discussion, my mother sighs and said, "I taught her how to read, so she should be able to follow a recipe."

Until the last two weeks, I had no motivation or desire to read a recipe. However, I've started pulling recipes from magazines. Real Simple has been my main source to date. The recipes are simple, contain some ingredients that I admit I have to google (I now know what bulgar is), and are pretty to look at. It's been fun, and a slightly mindless way in which I can pass time. So far, there has been one miss on taste but, on the bright side, neither of us have ended up hospitalized for food poisoning.

I still don't think I could make dinner every night of the week without reaching a breaking point. But I think I like the novelty of looking for a recipe, figuring it out, and then finishing it with finesse. Maybe it's mostly the end process that I find myself enjoying. I like focusing on the presentation -- making sure that the color of plate the food is on makes sense, condiments (like parmesan) are served in little bowls and not directly out of the package, and the table is set. And I'm still a pain in the kitchen -- as I cook, I clean by putting away items after I've used them and constantly wiping down the counters. 

So I'm having fun with cooking. I'm pretty sure my mother will stare at me in disbelief when she hears that, and I'm sure it will be a while before my family allows me to bring any food I've prepared to family events. But I like this little cooking adventure that I'm on...but I'm not on the route to becoming the next Julia Child.