Welcome to our Kitchen

I am not a good cook. In fact, I’m a really bad cook. If you think my family is starving (or worse, eating the terrible things I cook), worry not. I married my husband specifically because he is a really good cook. Also, I love him.

Our first date consisted of conversation and a supreme pizza from Pizza Hut. Classy, right? In 8th grade, I earned the one and only ‘F’ of my academic career in home economics. It’s not as bad as you think; mom and dad thought it was funny and I was able to repeat the class (which I had skipped the first time around). When my husband learned this and noticed that I lacked the ability to prepare a meal that was not noodles, he made an effort to get me excited about cooking.

Despite the meals I prepared being considered ‘an insult to food,’ I have always enjoyed watching cooking shows. Cooking shows are great for inducing naps and an excuse for being unproductive around the house. Against his better judgment, my husband started including me in the kitchen and our meal preparations. For fun, we would suit up in aprons and he would provide commentary as though he had his own cooking show. Yes, we are very strict and serious when we cook.

Cooking was no longer a chore, it was a fun activity we did together. It was quality time with a delicious outcome. My role in the kitchen includes preparing noodles (boiling water), making rice (I have the patience to get it just-right), peeling potatoes (I’m more careful with a peeler than my husband), and chopping onions (punishment for my crimes against food). I made all of my own baby food purees and I am also in charge of baking and treat making which I do very well (it’s because I taste as I go).

Better, right?

Because we are so busy, we get into the habit of cooking things that are easy or that we can prepare quickly, thus limiting our menu options. When we acquired ground bison, we decided to try something very different. Very different in the kitchen means we have no idea what we are doing. My husband searched the internet for a recipe and was baffled by the results.

“How is this possible?” he asked. It seemed as though he was speaking to the lap-top, but his question was directed at me. “There are no recipes for ground bison. Doesn’t anyone eat this stuff?”

“Are you sure?” I asked absentmindedly as I peeled potatoes.

“There is absolutely nothing. I don’t get it,” he sighed.

I took a moment to look over his shoulder as my potato peeling production halted. As a nerd, I find it nearly impossible that Google does not find search results for EVERYTHING. There it was; 4 odd results and not one recipe.

“They sell this stuff at the store. What are you supposed to do with it?” I asked as my full attention was redirected from the potatoes to the recipe-search-fail. “You idiot!” I exclaimed in an affectionate manner. “You searched for ground bison receipts!”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s recipes not receipts!”

In all the glory of Star Wars, the student became the master.

Our little-chef has also shown an interest in participating in kitchen activities. He’s really good with an empty bowl and spoon and makes delicious invisible food. It’s only a matter of time before he becomes the new master.

Please VOTE for ME daily!

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Mom-Zombies Wear Aprons

I have a lot of things in my house that serve no purpose.I have them simply because I can. They might have been a good bargain or a well intentioned gift, but they serve no purpose in my life. Bath loofahs are a good example. I probably have 10, am always acquiring more, but never-ever use them.

I can take little credit for the meals which are prepared in our house. My husband is chef. I am cooking-assistant (yes, that’s what he really calls me). I peel potatoes, chop onions, boil water, or any combination of the three. The U.S. Navy might call that punishment, but we call that family time. And considering the food and money we save by me not burning it, we call that efficient too.

Despite my non-existent cooking skills, I like being in the kitchen and enjoy my role as cooking-assistant. Family time, remember? My husband occasionally wears an apron that we got as a wedding gift. It’s a tasteful grilling apron but without a zany one liner about grilling. It just has stripes. As cooking-assistant, I thought it was only right if I had an apron too.

So I made one… Like with a sewing machine… First sewing project… I think you have a good visual now of a misshaped pocket, uneven ties, and more loose threads than your toddler can count. Yeah, that’s my homemade apron you’ve just imagined.

I totally forget my apron exists except on the rare occasion when my husband remembers to wear his. Then I remember to wear mine.

My apron really isn’t good for anything. Except this…

Halloween 2010: 7 months pregnant

Apron + zombie make up + pregnant lady = pregnant lady wearing an apron and zombie make-up

Aprons aren’t just for cooking, ladies!

At least mine isn’t.

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AMAZON.com: That’s Not Your Mommy Anymore: A Zombie Tale