Instant soup doesn't really grab me

Automatic for the people / REM











In all seriousness, if I were to start my employment paths all over again, I think I would like to be a chef. This is surprising, to me and everyone I know. Why? Because until about three years ago I didn’t cook. I didn’t really know how to cook and I didn’t like to cook.



I didn’t grow up in a household of cooks. In fact, aside from a few specific items and thanksgiving none of the three generations of women that I grew up with cooked. What did we do? You ask. We ate out. A trend that I was just fine with.


When M. and I got together, he cooked. Not only did he claim to like it, but he did magically things. I would open the refrigerator and honestly say, we have nothing to eat in the house. He’d shoo me from the kitchen and thirty minutes later there would be this great meal.


Later when we both had jobs with healthy commutes, I became responsible for one meal a week. It was so bad that the take out Chinese food place knew me not only by name, but by pattern.


“Oh, you late today Miss S…bad traffic?” “Miss S … no dumplings? You always get dumplings, you forgot?” “Miss S… we worried about you last week? You on vacation?” And sadly the answer was always yes. When we moved from the area, I stopped in to say good bye.


It wasn’t that I couldn’t cook anything. I had a stock 4 recipes (chicken soup, pot roast, corn beef and cabbage and meatloaf). Three out of four of these required only that you put the three ingredients in a pot and boil it forever. I also had managed to get down pumpkin pie (with store bought crusts – my contribution to many Thanksgivings.) But mostly, that was it. In my younger days I had tried. I some times managed scrambled eggs. But not baking.


My first (and last) attempt at a from scratch cake turned out to be a wonderful brick. (Who knew that creaming butter and melting butter were so different? I mean melted is pretty creamy I thought. I was wrong.)


After a while I slowly added to my repertoire : roasting a whole bird, stuffed peppers and roasted veggies. The options were still limited. Worse, though I am an only child, spawn from two only children, with no family, when I did cook (and when I cook today) I cook for a small army.


It’s weird. I mean I can follow a recipe that says it serves four and get half a dozen servings from it. So every time I cook there is lots…and lots…and lots.


But I’ve always loved cookbooks. I like to read about food, look at food and of course, eat food. It was just the cooking part I couldn’t relate to. In truth, I think I was scared. I had tried to cook a few things, a few times right after M. and I got together. That is what good girl friends do, right? Cook?


*snort* Yeah. Let’s just say it wasn’t pretty. In fact, I remember a few occasions when it was so bad a) not only the cat wouldn’t eat it, but b) we had to throw out the pot. I was the only one I knew who could burn spaghetti, have a hot dog that was part cooked and part raw. Let’s not even get into the mess I made with pancake batter. And I still, in fact, have problems with assembling the blender.


So what changed? The magic of television. Food Channel. Suddenly I was not only reading about food and looking at pictures in cookbooks that seemed magically impossible, but I could watch it on tv. I watched them do things and thought…oh I get it. I could imagine the tastes of things going together. And from watching I wanted to try. And then, there is nothing like success to keep one going. It was very exciting to cook something and have it not only be edible, but actually good.


So about four years ago I started cooking. Now I can even alter recipes or not use one at all. I’m very proud. And, I like it. Maybe when I retire I’ll open a restaurant.