It’s 9 am Sunday morning. I hear the sounds of utensils on the countertops and the opening and closing of cabinet doors. In preparation for tonight’s dinner, my husband is busy in the kitchen…choosing just the right spices…peeling carrots and potatoes…pulling out the crock pot. Tomorrow being St. Patrick’s Day, he decided to make corned beef and cabbage today. He had planned ahead and bought everything he needed yesterday.
Why…do you wonder…am I not there with him? Because I HATE TO COOK. I mean seriously hate to cook.
There is a certain irony in my disdain for the act of cooking. My mother was an amazing cook. She came home from work and prepared a full meal for our family of seven everyday . She actually enjoyed it and said it was her way of winding down after a busy day. What? Who thinks of cooking as a way to relax? Apparently my husband does since he cooks our dinner every night after he’s worked all day. Thank goodness he doesn’t share my feelings on the subject.
And then there’s my daughter, the chef. You heard it right. She’s a chef. She has a degree in the culinary arts and has worked for a few very famous chefs in downtown Chicago. She absolutely loves the restaurant business and thinks nothing of the hard work required of the hot kitchen environment. While I love to GO to restaurants, I would never work in one, not mention cook in one! People often ask if she got her love of cooking from her mother. Definitely not.
It’s sad that my mother’s love of cooking didn’t rub off on me, but thank goodness that my lack of love for it didn’t rub off on my daughter.
Cooking is not my cup o’ tea…or the cup o’ coffee I have in my hand as I write this. (Coffee, BTW, that my husband made this morning. Yes, it’s that bad.)
Do I hate to cook because I’m not good at it? Or is it that I’m not good at it because I hate to cook? I guess it really doesn’t matter much. What does matter is that years ago, I found someone who loves it and I married him!
Happy St. Patrick’s Day!!!
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