- The most remarkable thing about my mother is that for thirty years she served the family nothing but leftovers. The original meal has never been found.
I love Calvin and Hobbes' cartoons. The one above is very appropriate to the topic I want to explore today.
I am a not a domestic diva. Martha Stewart will never be a friend of mine. Though it would be fun to invite Emeril in my home to show me a cooking trick or two (Ladies and gentlemen: Leave your dirty thoughts in the gutter where they belong. I am talking about real cooking. Not "cooking" with a wink. LOL).
My family members could attest to the fact that we eat out often because I lack some basic cooking skills. I have a very small repertoire of passable and edible culinary delights but I am most comfortable in leaving the cooking to those who have better relationships with the kitchen gods.
Don't get me wrong, I can bake around a lot of people. I can make a great Tiramisu from scratch and whip a batch of Baklava in no time. So it is not arsonphobia... In retrospect, it might be reverse arsonphobia because my cooking seems to come out in the Cajun (reads unintentionally burned) and/or the flambe' (reads unintentionally flaming) variety.