My family knows I'mnot much of a cook.
I can fry eggs, but
my fried chicken sucks.
I can bake potatoes,
but my mashed ones fail.
My spaghetti turns out,
but my lasagna lacks pizazz.
I quit trying to make pie crusts,
never attempt anything gourmet,
and my very favorite kitchen gadget
is the can opener.
I always wanted to be one
of those great cooks
that everybody loves.
Kinda like Paula Deen.
(Without the accent and
over-enthusiastic drama).
I always wanted the family
to call me up and request I make
a certain dish for the reunion,
a special cake for an event,
or some great finger food
for their party.
I always wanted my kids
to be able to brag to their
friends that I make a
fantastic pork roast
or blackberry cobbler
or organic pizza.
I wanted friends and strangers alike
to plead for my recipes,
long for my culinary lessons,
and go into a heavenly trance
when tasting my concoctions.
I always wanted a kitchen
that smelled like sugar cookies
instead of burnt fish.
...A kitchen lined with cookbooks
and not take-out coupons.
...A kitchen that was a organized wonder
and not a "I wonder if it will ever get organized."
...A kitchen so clean and bright
that you could eat off the floor-
not feed the dog off the floor scraps.
I wanted to be the kind of cook
that hears kind words.
Like: "Yum" instead of "Yuck".
"Cool!" instead of "Crap!".
"Awesome" instead of "Awful".
I'll admit- at least my meals are edible.
I haven't yet resorted to TV dinners,
carry-out every night,
or freeze dried astronaut food.
(Even though the family
is encouraging me to do so.)
So, in reality, I guess Rae's diner
is just another one of those
video daydreams...
But that doesn't keep me from trying.
Tonight I'm experimenting with
Bearnaise sauce.
But do you know how hard it is
to find a bear in these parts?
