“Let’s not count out that you don’t have your mom’s cooking genes just yet.” I kid you not, those words came out of Mr. Dr.’s mouth recently. Yes! I still have a chance. Slow and steady in cooking sagas wins the race my friends. Don’t forget it. But before I get too cocky, let’s face it. Mr. Dr. is a nice enough guy that he would eat a piece of grilled cardboard with a side of shredded paper if I put it in front of him. He would even probably pretend to enjoy it. He is not picky (thank goodness) and he appreciates any safe meals I attempt to cook. But regardless that I’m super lucky to have a grateful hubs (and one that is completely starving upon home arrival) I think he does like some of my cooking. Even if it’s because he feels bad for me because he knows cooking is not my strong suit…or because he is so hungry anything would taste good. That’s all irrelevant. The point is, there is still a chance. Mr. Dr. made the comment when he came home to a delicious home-made chicken salad that I whipped up unexpectedly on one of my lazy Sundays. Recipe: Honey Dijon marinated grilled chicken, fat free mayo, celery, salt & pepper and of course a generous amount of Old Bay. Yum.
So my friends, I will not give up. I will continue to strive for greatness in the kitchen, safely and simply. Do I love cooking? Absolutely not. As you know. But do I love seeing Mr. Dr. happy and satisfied from something yours truly made? Absolutely yes. Will I cook daily? Absolutely not. Will I cook weekly? Most likely not. But will I surprise myself and Mr. Dr. every once in a while? I sure will. As long as Cutco and I remain frenemies and not enemies, and I can continue to wear my Michael Jackson glove, don’t count me out.