Why do I have photos of food posted on my blog? Well, you must not know me that well. You see, I have this problem that I was raised with, Aaron is very accepting of it, and I informed him of this problem when we started dating. I think he thought it was cute the first few years of knowing me, then it was accepted, and now, well, it’s tolerated.
My problem is that I don’t cook. It’s not that I won’t cook, it’s that I have no clue how. And at this point in my life, learning is not really an option. Whenever I have made something, I enjoy making it. But now I have 3 small children underfoot that have gotten so used to me never cooking, well, now they just hate when I’m in the kitchen. They would rather me play with them, read to them, sit with them, wipe their nose, butt, etc. And they don’t really get why mom is in the kitchen at all.
Aaron is a great cook. So I usually handle the kids, setting of table, and the cleanup side to entertaining. But I never get to enjoy the credit of making the food. I don’t get the compliments, the questions of what was in a dish, how I made it, nothing. And if you haven’t noticed, I’m trying to be more domestic. I don’t know what exactly domestic means, but I’m trying nonetheless because it’s something I’m not. And I hate not being anything.
I’m kind of greedy in the whole life thing. I would like to be/have/experience/see it all. And cooking is just not something I am able to scratch off my list. . .yet. . .
Until now. . .
It all began a few weeks ago when I was flipping through my not usual magazine choice. I was scanning Better Homes & Gardens, why, I have no idea. But, get this, in the back of the magazine they have a section just for recipes! Most of the time I don’t read the recipes because it’s confusing. These recipes read like a foreign language to me. What’s saute versus simmer, broil versus grill, fry versus bake, and don’t get me started on the pans. But a photo caught my eye and it said simple somewhere near the top. It was a recipe for Spicy Shrimp Nachos. I was having a dinner party the following Friday night and thought I could try this out as an appetizer. I cut the recipe out, which in itself made me feel like such a good normal capable domestic wife and I slipped it into my adorable Hobo International clutch wallet and headed to the market.
I bought all the ingredients myself and had to go to two markets to find Jamaican Jerk Seasoning, which by the way is sold in a little bottle in the section where they have salt and other ingredients that you put in other recipes which have weird names like tarragon and coriander, and it’s also not made by some Jamaican jerk at all! Little did I know.
I made the homemade mango salsa and had everything ready. But I couldn’t handle the raw shrimp detailing thing. So once again Aaron was the hero and actually made the meal. But he gave me the credit nonetheless at dinner, but it didn’t matter because he made the risotto and everything else that night!
So I was determined to complete a meal on my own. No help. No having your husband do your dirty work at all. And tonight was the night, the first time in almost 8 years of marriage that I made every single dish myself. From scratch. Aaron didn’t really know what to do with himself. He kept pacing around the island, telling me that he could help. Nope. I got it under control. I can handle this.
I touched the raw shrimp, although he did have to show me how to take their tails off. I made the mango salsa, shredded the cheese, made guacamole from scratch, red potatoes(possibly called red skin potatoes?), and marinated pork chops, Yes, I even touched raw pork with my own two ungloved hands! And the meal was decent! It really was edible and quite good if you ask me. I was able to answer the what’s in this question and the where did you find this question and I even managed to do all the cleanup afterwards(with a little help from a guest, thanks by the way).
My only fear is that now Aaron may think I am quite capable of cooking all meals. And this would pose a problem. I will have to destroy a meal in the near future for him to lose all faith in my abilities, but that will be fine. I have proved to myself that I can indeed cook, and so I never have to do it again. It was really fun being domestic while it lasted, and now I’m onto my next item on the list! Just kidding. I know I am far from domestic, but I do deserve a little pat on the back for attempting something that for the last 27 years of my life has been quite foreign. And maybe when my children are older and are quite good at wiping their own noses and rear ends I will take a cooking class and learn exactly what medium high heat is, what al dente looks like, and how to get something golden brown.