Barely boiling water

April Moon, Day 10

Ah the kitchen, center of the home, place of sustenance and creativity.

It wasn’t always that way.

My Dad liked to cook I think. My mother hated it.

I didn’t know how. When I moved out I could barely boil water.

Several lovely men taught me how to do a few things in the kitchen–I think it was make a basic spaghetti sauce. If it weren’t for Eric, Ben and Greg I probably wouldn’t have eaten anything other than hamburgers and pizza..ever.

And years later a good friend, Angela, taught me again.

And Matt encouraged me when I got out on my own. It was ok to cook for one person. Not just graze.

I didn’t really like to cook for groups..or make dinner for friends until J and I got together. I never thought I’d be very good at it. It does take practice.

I don’t have a natural talent in the kitchen. I cook things I learn from recipes. I can now improvise a bit.

And…with a little help from J, I can pull off a great Fangsgiving and have it all come out at the same time! All the side dishes, rolls and turkey.

So when I go in the kitchen I don’t feel dread anymore..I feel an opportunity to show some love.

J and E even have favorite meals they ask me to make–that is a joy I might not have had if I hadn’t decided it really was ok to cook–that it wouldn’t make me less fierce somehow (I think that was my mother’s point, but I actually turned out to like homey things like cooking and fixing and decorating–in addition to computers and networks You can have both).

And soon I’ll start teaching Em. She’ll know how to boil water when she gets out on her own, but I hope still missing the things I’ve cooked for her.  I hope she’ll come back on the weekends and ask me to make those parmesan chicken wings.