#73 I'm Passionless... in the Kitchen

I think I'll write a book; The Passionless Cook.

On October 31st, we had our quasi annual Halloween party, and I decided to serve pumpkin soup as one of the hors d'oeuvres. It's my father-in-law's recipe, and I'll be honest, I've made this soup a number of times, and it never tastes as good as his.

Most people don't know this about me, but I have little confidence in the kitchen. I'll admit, I make some pretty yummy challah french toast, and I'm amazing on the grill with salmon and steak, but besides those two endeavors, I'm a hit-or-miss kind of cook. Anyway, during the party, I did receive a number of compliments on the pumpkin soup, but the most special compliment came from a neighbor down the street. He emailed to say thanks, and mentioned that he enjoyed my pumpkin soup. I was very flattered since I consider him a very talented cook, and a compliment from him was, well, better than nice. A few days later we bumped into each other at a neighborhood store. We chatted, and I mentioned that I aspire to his prowess in the kitchen. He shrugged his shoulders and said something like, I'm not sure that I'm that great, I just really love to cook. I realized then [well, I probably verbalized an old realization]... that I really don't like to cook. If money were no object, I'd hire a personal chef before hiring someone to do the laundry and bathrooms... that's how much I don't enjoy it. Don't get me wrong, I don't hate to cook, I just don't like to cook.

Perfect example -- I have another neighbor whose dishes and desserts are delish, and needless to say, she also loves to cook. My husband has told me on a number of occasions that their house is "one of his favorite restaurants". One evening, my neighbor served a wonderful chicken dish with a side of Moroccan rice. I ate with an almost spiritual devotion, enjoying the flavors and textures, until I was so stuffed I thought my pants were going to lacerate my belly roll. It's not hard to guess on which side of a meal my passions lie.

A day or two later when I called to thank her for dinner, I also asked for the chicken and rice recipes. I had decided that I would make this meal for an extended family dinner later that month. Let's just say that when I cut into my piece of chicken and started to chew, I knew that my lack of loving to cook was right there in my mouth. I almost gave myself masseter-itis [masseter - def: thick muscle in the cheek that assists in chewing; itis - def: suffix denoting inflammation] trying to break down that little piece of chicken so that I could swallow it. I had to chew... and chew... and chew...

And, as I sat there exercising my masseter muscles, it dawned on me that if you do something without having or feeling a passion for it, then that lack of passion can definitely be "tasted", if not by others, then definitely by you.

Quote of the Day: "Everything I eat has been proved by some doctor or other to be a deadly poison, and everything I don't eat has been proved to be indispensable for life. Yet, I go marching on." George Bernard Shaw