Reclaiming my Passion for Food

For about four years straight now, I have been the sous chef. Yeah, sometimes I take the lead if we are baking. And sometimes, if it's been a hectic day, I'll make the standby chicken and rice casserole. But I rarely get the opportunity to take the lead and experiment in the kitchen.

It all started about four years ago. I've always had an interest in food. My step mother made everything homemade. Bread, pie, casserole, every dinner--all from scratch. She taught me a lot, and I've always remembered it, but it seems that every time I am in a relationship and I introduce the other person to the wonders of food, they take over. Before Jim, the person I dated fell in love with food and has now been accepted to the Culinary Institute of America. I remember every time we tried to make dinner, that person would find the recipe, go grocery shopping, and then proceed to make the entire thing, barking orders in my direction the whole time.

Then I started dating Jim. While gentler, it's been about the same. We started cooking together. I would make the food and find the recipes at the beginning, vowing what had happened with my first relationship would not happen again. But then he wanted to get better at cooking, learning everything there was to know about anything he could get his hands on, so I took a step back, because he really enjoyed it and I was glad he found something that made him happy. In the process though, my love for cooking took the back seat. I found myself cutting veggies while he did everything else, and then eventually when he was practicing knife skills, I wasn't even doing that.

I'd pretty much given up, conceding in this fight to be head chef. Whenever I did attempt to try and make something I knew how to make, he would just watch, and then next time, he knew how to make it and he took over. Or whenever I was making dinner, he would comment on everything I was doing wrong and how the way he did it was much better. "You really didn't the get the oil in the pan hot enough." So I grimaced and turned the heat up. "You should really try cutting it like this." So I stepped out of the way while he showed me how to cut the damn peppers in perfect julienne strips, all the while finishing the whole dish. Let me say just this: I hate perfectly cut vegetables. Yes, I know. It cooks evenly. But it feels so pretentious and anal. I like rustic, simple looking food, and that means rustic cuts.

At that point, I knew it was hopeless. I would just enjoy being cooked for instead. But every time he would cook, I always wanted to be in the kitchen, trying it out for myself. I should have said something, and I tried several times, but he never really got the message.

For Christmas, my dad got me a cookbook. It's a great cookbook. It's Ina Garten's "Back to Basics". The recipes are so elegant and simple and I spent several days studying all of the recipes and photos before I realized that this was my very first cookbook. For four years, I watched both of my significant others receive cookbooks and kitchen tools and gadgets as gifts, wondering why no one ever thought I liked cooking as much as they did. Well, I'm done with that.

World, I love cooking. I love cookbooks. I love recipes. I know how to cook just as well as the people I've dated. I just cook differently. And with this new cookbook, I intend to let everyone know.

Besides, neither of them could ever pull off my amazing roast chicken. : )