A good cook

Have I ever told you that my mother is an incredible cook?  Really really wonderful.  Growing up, we were exposed to so many different homemade dishes that I didn't appreciate at all.  Mom was always trying new things and executing them beautifully.  Again...I turned my nose up and stuck my tongue out.  And baking!  She makes pavlova and lace cookies and homemade banana cake, homemade German chocolate icing...and on and on.  If I could have one eating related wish, it would be to go back in time and taste all the things my mother cooked for us...and just enjoy the cuisine she worked so hard to create rather than dismiss it.

I wasn't much interested in cooking as a kid.  At least that I remember.  I don't think I really liked food very well at all...just desserts.  So when I started cooking out of necessity...it was a bit of a disaster.

Some stories are now family legend...

Like when I called my mom in tears because the Tuna Helper called for tuna in spring water...and it didn't tell me how much spring water to add.

Or when I called her frantic from college because the recipe called for cooked chicken...how do I cook chicken before I put it in the casserole?

Flattened brownies, collapsing cakes, unrolled cabbage rolls, etc etc etc.

So it is part of my shtick to make fun of my cooking skills.  I am a self-deprecating humorist anyway, so this was just a natural avenue to follow.  It's just funny to sell myself as a horrible, miserable cook.  My poor family, blah blah blah.

But a few years ago, some things began changing.  Like, my mom started asking me for recipes of things I'd cooked for her.  Or my mom would call me for help with how to cook something I'd made before.  I started trying new recipes just because I was craving something...and it actually turned out good the first time.  It was fun to have people over and cook for them, because they seem to enjoy my creations and it wasn't stressful to cook.

-shock-

Last night, I went to a birthday party for a 35-ish neighbor (I watch her son).  It was at this little cooking school in our town.  The chef used to be the head chef of some swanky $200/plate restaurant in Philly...but he lives in our town and so opened this little school.  We learned how to make a swanky appetizer (towers of shrimp, greens, etc), a fancy little chicken roll on potato fritters with cranberry gravy and leeks (first time I'd ever made a chicken mousse...), and some kind of crepe for dessert.

These were complicated dishes.  And the chef is very French...and very difficult to understand.  And one of the other party guests was late, so for a while I was assembling 2 dishes.  Yet it was fun.

And out of 12 people in attendance, the chef picked my shrimp salad tower as, "Perfect.  Ook at zeeese one.  Is Perfect!"

Then the chicken dish...which was equally complicated...rolling chicken breasts, etc.  Again, the chef picks mine out of 12 and chooses it as the best.  He even complemented my technique with a few things...and he was not very complimentary.

The crepes...well, I've never been as good at the dessert/baking stuff.  I was NOT picked as an example or complimented on my technique ;)

But as I breezed through the demonstration and then glowed in the praises of Chef Jean Pierre, I realized that I AM a good cook.  I am a competent cook.  I have techniques and skills and confidence in the kitchen.

So no more jokes about my cooking.  I'll accept that it is something I'm actually kind of good at.

At least I'll always have my running skills to make fun of ;)