I decided to veer a bit today in topic and write about cooking. Just as I am not a theologian, I’m certinly not a cook, so if you’re looking for recipes and cool stories about food, you’ll want to visit my friend Camilla’s blog. (See http://www.culinary-adventures-with-cam.blogspot.com.)
Lots of people say they can’t cook, and sometimes, they’re right. But lots of other people say they can cook – and their food is bloody awful. So, let me clarify, when I say that I’m new to the kitchen, I mean that until recently, I could not have told you what “saute” means or even how to tell if my burger was no longer alive. I could not imagine what one would do with 98% of what is found in a grocery store. I could make instant oatmeal.
I did not grow up with food. No one in my house cooked. Generally, the pantry was pretty empty. We had Frosted Mini Wheats, chips, Dove ice cream bars, Evian, and Coke. My parents were self-employed. They would leave the office and go to a nearby restaurant for dinner and then return to the office. We never saw each other. This didn’t bother me for two reasons. One, it was better to be away from them, and two, equally important, I respected the responsibilty they had to their employees and clients. I appreciate a good work ethic.
So, this whole cookng thing is a Brave New World. Now that I’m getting past the terror of it, I think it’s pretty darn fun. But it’s more than fun — the act of cooking for someone feeds some deep down part of my soul, a part of me I hadn’t known I was missing.
Cooking for my family is a tangible demonstration of my feelings for them. I want them to experience in every possible way the joy, pleasure, satisfaction and delight that is in my life because they are.
Last night, in absolute seriousness, I explained to my husband a new house policy:
I will only cook with real ingredients: butter, cream, lard, bacon, etc. If anyone thinks their jeans are getting tight, they need to exercise more or eat smaller portions.
Life is too short for bad food.
Pulled Pork and Limoncello Cake