Tots & Tuna A.K.A. I Hate Cooking

I hate cooking - truly, hate cooking. I cook out of necessity and not for joy. I cook because my daughter is hungry. I cook because it's a hard task to ignore.

In my previous life - otherwise known as pre-child days - I could get away with a lovely take out, or a make-it-yourself attitude. My husband often obliged because he prefers his meal to be edible. His own family were quite at ease in the kitchen - creating, with ease, simple and tasty masterpieces that would amuse his senses. I am not of his family. For almost 20 years his mother has been supportive and enthusiastically advising me of culinary creations and for almost 20 years, it has been going in one ear and out the other (sorry Marlene).

In truth, my disinterest in cooking stems from a life-long lack of kitchen confidence. My own mother was a "chef" (definition of chef = can make a lump of stale bread into a steaming and delectable casserole) and I could not EVER compare. My own bumblings would pale next to hers and her discreet and kind pieces of advice and direction, to me, only pointed out my shortcomings. I'll see a therapist some day.

Now, in having a child who requires nourishment - I have become an avid recipe collector. I may or may not do anything with the recipe once I've collected it - but the option is there. I do enjoy taking an interest in recipes whereas I used to rifle past them and only note the picture. Now, I might pause - review the "Time to Prepare" and scan the ingredients list. If the "Time to Prepare" exceeds 30 minutes - my attention is already lost. If it meets my attention deficit, then the ingredients list is the next thing - all items must be familiar to a commoner like me. If there is an ingredient list that I must google to identify - that recipe is NOT being torn from it's current housing.

My pile of recipes grows each month - there is no rhyme nor reason for it - simply a pile that boasts only the accolade that it is "Recipes". Not "Main Dish", not "Fun For Kids" - just "Recipes". Once a month, I'll sit on the floor with my pile and flip through it like a deck of cards - pulling out a dozen that look appealing for that season, that meal or, frankly, my mood. From that dozen-or-so, I put one or two on the fridge for the week - setting my chef-goal at the "try-this-one-out" level. A goal, I'm proud to say, that is often reached. One or two recipes is not too intimidating and having already screened these offerings for "Time to Prepare" and "Familiar Ingredients" factors, they are approachable and safe for me. Life is a lot easier - I don't beat myself about the head with shame - for not creating meals or, if created, not presenting meals that are edible without wincing. In fact, my husband has become an active player in this adventure - engaging in dialogue throughout the meal regarding that recipes attributes or deficits. He has learned, good man, to phrase the deficits in a kind and supportive manner -

Husband: "Honey, what do you think of this recipe? Are you enjoying it too?"
Me: "Well, for a first run, I find it a bit bland. I think next time I'd jazz it up with some more seasonings etc"
Husband: "I agree - it's a good foundation, but would definitely benefit from some of your famous TLC"

Overall, a conversation that is well-phrased and does not invite a launch from my seat to tear off his face and then slap him with it.

I am very pleased to feed my daughter - whether she eats it or not is another post - because I do believe that nurturing your children includes the food you feed them. I want her to enjoy her meals - for the company as much as for the quality - and be physically healthy and happy. I will continue my pattern of recipe collection on her behalf and face my kitchen demons silently inside my head. Both my therapist in future and my MIL will be happy.

On a side note, I do enjoy a good egg-on-the-face gag as well as anyone even when the face dripping the egg is my own and the origin of the gag is my also mine. Therefore, I must admit that the event that precipitated this post topic is, in fact, taken from my own life last night – because I believe that I’ve reached a never-to-be-repeated low causing both embarrassment, as well as, gagging. I was shocked and appalled to realize I was seated across from my hubby at the dinner table last night while he munched...tater tots and tuna. In all honesty, I have to seriously review the evening to trace the path that led to such an atrocious meal. Can you call it a meal? Please consider in my explanation 4 facts – after-school swim lessons, my hubby’s birthday-the-next-day-shopping-to-do, an empty pantry (I have no idea where the tater tots in the freezer came from because I’ve never purchased them???) and a sense of deep exhaustion. The tater tots were my first effort to create a “Brunch-like” dinner – omelets, tots and crusty loaf but I had to run out of the house to get the birthday shopping done while the tots were toasting. By the time I returned from the speed shopping, I could care less about creating an omelet and opted to ignore the tots entirely. Did I mention that my stomach was in knots? A possible oncoming flu?

So I browse my empty pantry and thank my stars for the foresight I had last week in purchasing that can of tuna – for no reason other than “it can’t hurt to have a spare can of tuna” and I decide to make a toasted tuna sandwich. Did I mention exhaustion? Mid way into opening the tin, my energy drained out through my feet and took what little appetite along with it so I left the tuna half-prepared on the counter and walked away. Being as I’d fed my daughter when we arrived home from swimming – an appropriate and well-rounded meal I might add – and I assumed and/or trusted that my husband could fend for himself to find something, I opted to forget a meal for myself and trust that my appetite would bring me downstairs for a late-night bowl of cereal in a couple hours. Don’t worry, I checked to ensure there was milk in the fridge. So…I’m not eating but I sit down at the table with my hubby who has scrounged something onto a plate. I come out of my lethargy long enough to focus on his selection…cold tots, half-prepared tuna and a slice of crusted toast. Now that, good people, is fecking awful.

In times when there is no dignity, laughter can often be heard…

Hey, if you feel up to it...send me a recipe you like, I'd love to try it - or, perhaps, you've your own dinner disaster - blogentry@gingerbreadlane.ca