I’m not big on cooking…I’d rather be writing, painting a wall, cleaning out a drain – in fact anything other than messing with food and trying to get it to comply with my ideas. No matter I hard I try, it never comes together. So, having rather cleverly married a man who is a genius in the kitchen, I happily waltz off and leave him to it.
Very occasionally, he doesn’t feel like cooking and I’m in charge of the cooking. Scary – but true!
And it goes something like this:
- I turn up in the kitchen
- I talk nicely to my ingredients
- I have it all planned out in my stupid little head, and even have a mood board
- I try to have some organisation about me
- I fail miserably
- The food conspires against me
- It organises a revolution in the kitchen
- The kitchen looks like a bomb site
- And there’s nothing edible in it
- I give up and order a takeaway
- Hubby dares to venture back into the kitchen
Anyway, this week I cooked a meal for us all, in a strange kitchen [at the cabin].. There were worried glances as I set about preparing the meal, and I could hear anxious whispering…mum’s in the kitchen…is she okay in there?
I received offers of help and I sent them away. Which was even more worrying for them all…hah, hah, hah!Then we all sat outside and they munched their way through my offering.
I love my little family, they are so brave and know not to upset me!
That’s all for now and thanks for dropping by. Enjoy your Saturday night.
Until the next time.