I kind of like to cook.
That's something I never thought I would ever write. In our family, Paul has always been the chef, and I'm the baker. That's still the case, but I'm inching into Paul's realm, first out of necessity and then because I actually enjoy it.
It goes something like this:
Before Edith was born up until she starting eating solid foods last May, Paul and I would eat supper at about 9 p.m. Because of our hours and commutes, we were rarely both home before 7 p.m. When we did get home, we would relax for a bit, and then Paul would start supper.
With Edith, that plan became untenable. It didn't make sense to always feed her a meal before bedtime, only for Paul and me to eat a couple of hours later. Plus, our move to Ohio shortened Paul's commute, so he's home a little earlier. We decided to move up our dinnertime by a few hours.
I began to feel like I needed to chip in more for supper, and I don't mean heating the oven for a frozen pizza. Although Paul was home slightly earlier, our mealtime would still be pushed back if he had to cook supper each night. So I've slowly taken over some meals during the week.
At first it was just the easy things I've long known how to make: quesadillas, salmon cakes, breakfast burritos, chicken bakes. Then Paul taught me enchiladas, and I can make tacos if he reminds me of the correct proportion of spices to add.
Now I'm branching out without his help: homemade macaroni and cheese, a couple of lentil dishes that Edith just loves, and a tortilla pie that is seriously one of the best things I've ever made -- not that there's much competition.
I've had a miss or two -- Edith liked my applesauce rice and I thought it was OK, but Paul determined that it was kind of disgusting. But at least I'm trying new things and looking up new recipes.
I still have a long way to go before I would consider myself a good cook by any means. But I am proud that I have at least a few well-rounded meals that I can depend on without resorting on anyone but me.