A few days ago, actually, last Thursday, I made chicken pot pie. It was more like my mom made chicken pot pie because she told me what to do. I was absolutely hopeless without her. When she stepped out, I managed to cut my finger and had to get my sister to finish cutting the potatoes. Pathetic.
This led me to the sad realization that I am not a good cook. I can never remember how to make rice. I get confused when there are too many ingredients. Things just don’t make sense to me sometimes. I am not a terrible cook at all, I just prefer to make simple things. I can make omelets and crepes for breakfast; sandwiches, boxed macaroni, or canned soup for lunch; and then for dinner I can easily make meat, vegetables, and potatoes. Those are all simple things.
But when you get me into something too complicated, I need my mom.
This is an important realization . My mom says that I can’t cook really well because I really don’t like food–and I think she has a point. Everything I think of it that I can cook easily also happens to be something I like to eat. I don’t like to eat complicated foods and casseroles and that sort of thing. So I can’t cook them either.
Yesterday, I made chocolate chip cookies. I needed no help there. I can make chocolate chip cookies. I love making chocolate chip cookies. I also love eating chocolate chip cookies. They are the best things in the world and bring happiness. I love baked goods of all sorts, and I can make them.
So there you go. Simple equation. Cooking=loving food.