Not a great cook, so I had my own
- Laura Moore: Housebroken
- May 30, 2022
- 517
Though she thought herself a good cook, my mother was a mediocre cook at best. We kids didn’t notice that until we were much older, but that information was not really a surprise. Our meals were healthy, to give her credit, but not particularly tasty. Our likes and dislikes were never a consideration. What was healthy was Mom’s first priority. For instance, we were given things like rutabaga, which none of us liked, but if it was on our plate, we had to eat it. Yuck!
For me the worst meal she fixed was liver. Couldn’t stand the stuff, but it would appear on my supper plate at least once a month. I remember having to stay at the table until the liver was gone. I hated the vile stuff, but our dogs feasted on it. The trick was feeding them without being caught. Dad eventually caught me and ended my liver meals. He saw no point in wasting that kind of money feeding our dogs. Thanks, Dad!
Once married, I did my best to prepare eatable meals for my new husband. He, of course, didn’t know I had very limited kitchen skills. I could cook breakfast, which is my favorite meal. Dinner was a different matter. I was good with hamburgers, spaghetti, anything canned or frozen, and I excelled at takeout. Taller Half was happy as long as he got plenty to eat. I, on the other hand, was determined to become a more creative cook. Eventually, I did learn to fit in about 14 new meals and was so very proud of myself.
A few years ago, one of our grown daughters informed me our meal variety was on a two-week cycle. They could count on being fed the same thing every two weeks. She assured me what I fixed was tasty and enjoyable, but it was always the same every 14 days.
That daughter has grown up to become a gourmet cook, very likely as a direct result of her upbringing. So my lack of cooking skills managed to produce something great — a gourmet cook.