Before I Started Cooking

Before I started cooking (a lot), I used to cook (a little). I mean, I have always made myself food, but I never really cared much for cooking and looking at recipes. I remember the first time I ever planned a meal, bought the ingredients, and cooked the food. I remember working so hard at the presentation of the meal and caring so much at what the diners (my sisters) thought of it.

It was probably 3 years ago and I was living in an apartment in Atlanta. Emily and Erin were coming to town and I was going to cook dinner for them the night that they got in. I flipped through my first cookbook, Rachel Ray’ Just In Time, and picked the recipe Italian Fish and Chips. I was so excited to make this for the twins and I was nervous because I had never really cooked before. I was so proud of myself when it was over. When we all sat back drinking wine and laughing, I looked at that pile of dish with pride (It took me years to learn how to clean as I go as well). I think that that moment is what made me like to cook.

Do you want to see some pictures of that night? Boy, am I glad that I had my camera ready.

Now, I fiddle around almost every night with recipes and ingredients that are either so great that I wait for John to come home and force feed him (au poivre was one of those recipes) or that I dump down the sink and cry. I have sworn 100 times that I would never cook again out of frustration, but I can never stay away (Bf and I have a recipe we refer to as the “grass porkchop”. Gag.)

This is how I feel sometimes:

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YwOk6clMWH8&w=640&h=390]

* Just as I typed the last sentence about “grass porkchops” this clip came on. It was meant to be. And reeeeeeally creepy.

Meant to be….

Print Friendly
Share if you dare...Pin on Pinterest0Email this to someoneShare on LinkedIn0Share on Facebook0Print this pageShare on TumblrTweet about this on Twitter0

Related Post