I think it’s about time I learn how to cook.
I know, it’s a little crazy I’ve gone this long anyway. Especially, because I love to eat.
But I’ve basically always lived with people that don’t mind cooking. It started with my mom, then I survived off dorm food, then I had a boyfriend who wanted to be a chef, and now a husband who is an amazing cook.
But after 13 years of being together, he would be happy to have at least a few nights a week off from having to make dinner, and that seems fair.
Until now, I always felt intimidated when I tried to cook. I always believed I was going to mess it up.
So no surprise that when the first sign of failure came up, like a nasty over-cooked chicken, I’d declare I just couldn’t cook. It wasn’t in my DNA.
Well, come to find out, it’s in all of our DNA. I’m not fundamentally unable to cook. I just need to be more positive, pack on some patience, and keep at it.
To kick off this new mission, my husband and I took an Italian cooking class last night. Of course we learned some of the basics, like how to make a good marinara sauce, and the keys to a wonderful meatball.
But what I learned more than anything else is that learning to cook is all about the attitude you bring to kitchen.
Our class was a small group. It was a mix of couples and some groups of women having a girl’s night out. About 80 percent of the class was there to have fun and hopefully learn a thing or two.
However there were three couples that came as a group and were determined to not have fun. It was there mission- And they succeeded.
They had definitely had a few cocktails before they showed up, which was fine, but it didn’t seem to put them into a festive kind of mood.
They were agitated the whole class. So much so that one couple got in a disagreement and then left.
Another couple complained that the meatballs were taking too long, and pointedly saying how ridiculous it was to wait so long to eat. Meanwhile, they had accidentally turned off their own stove which was the real root of their problem, but I digress. When the remaining two couples did eat, they didn’t like the meal they had made and left, clearly dissatisfied.
However, in amazing contrast, all around me there were people having a wonderful time.
They were laughing as they tried to figure out how to mix this and that. Something would taste funny and they would just try and balance it out with something else, or ask the instructor how it could be fixed.
Nothing was the end of the world. Everything could be fixed. It was just cooking.
It made me realize that when I bring stress into my attempts to cook I’m starting from behind, right off the bat. By reframing my nightly attempts at learning how to make a good meal, it can become a little more fun and a lot less stressful.
And I’m not trying to make a living off this. I’d just like to expand my abilities past a chicken and veggie stir fry.
So with that, I’m to head into my kitchen right now, will put on some music, and have my first attempt at making salmon, my favorite fish. It was a great reminder last night that we create our happiness or stress. I vote for happiness.
