Most of my friends love to cook. There’s Susie (my Martha Stewart) who collects cookbooks like Lindsay Lohan collects mugshots, and she actually uses them. Dinner at her house is always festive, and I acknowledge and appreciate her creative culinary talents. Then there’s Kim, who can remember everything she’s ever ate. I’m not kidding, she remembers every cafeteria meal from elementary school and beyond. When she talks about her vacations, the details center around the restaurants and meals she had. She’s famous for taking a spoonful here and there while cooking or putting away the leftovers. Her family has banned her from taking “bites” off their plates, which I find hilarious and she finds frustrating. And then there’s Stephanie, who dives into cooking as an adventure, scouring blogs, magazines, and cookbooks, and always finding something new and creative for her husband. My sister, a baker at heart, has two food related blogs (overachiever xoxo). She has a beautiful and creative touch.
I, on the other hand, have an enjoyment with cooking in the media. I remember watching Julia Child’s t.v. show during the ’60s, and pretty sure my mom’s tuna casserole, fried hamburger, or Shit on a Shingle (another tuna dish over toast) were not recipes she got from Julia. In the movies, I loved Babette’s Feast, Diner, Big Night, The Trip, Chocolate, Food Inc., Tortilla Soup, Ratatouille, and for good measure, 9 1/2 weeks (included for the sexy way to use food). I subscribe to food magazine, have food related apps, blog recipes on a food related Facebook page, listen to food podcasts, watch a lot of Food Network shows, and am surrounded by never ending food being brought home from my chef husband; however, I don’t like to cook. I like to talk about food, talk about nutrients and calories, watch my husband create masterpieces, and still there’s no draw for me to actually cook. I am his sous chef for most dinners, but if you ask me to plan and cook it, I’ll suddenly have something very important to take care of, and you’ll see my backside as I leave the room.
Don’t get me wrong, I will shop and cook, I just don’t like to. Not my passion; not my thing. To my credit, I make breakfast every morning for my husband. Granted, it’s the exact same meal everyday: two poached eggs, garlic & mustard aioli on sourdough bread, sometimes with fruit on the side. Lunch is pretty much on our own, but on weekends I make his lunch which consists of a tuna (wow, just noticed the childhood relationship) sandwich that I zip up with olives and capers. Every day I ask him if he’d like my “famous” breakfast, and every day he smiles and with enthusiasm says, “Yes, I would.” So I reciprocate the enthusiasm by bringing him coffee in bed.
One of the best things I can say about having a chef cook for me is I can count on one hand how many repeat meals we have had. He loves food, he loves recipes, he loves cookbooks, he loves shopping for food, he loves hunting and fishing for food, and he loves styling food. He has a successful career cooking. He loves cooking. I say that’s a win-win for us both.
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