I think I like to cook. I say think because I like the idea of cooking, of combining ingredients together to create something delicious. Something my family and friends will taste and do the groan and have their eyes roll back. To hear that moan of food ecstasy. Proof that I have made something good.
I never learned to cook. My mom wouldn't let me. Don't ask. I have no clue why she never taught me. But while she was working. I would sneak into the kitchen pull down one of her many cookbooks and find a recipe.
The first recipe I ever tried and made entirely by myself was egg custard. I knew it was one of my dad's favorite desserts and we had all the ingredients for it.
I think it was a success. Everyone ate it. Or maybe they were just humoring me.
The next thing I made was lemon squares. Now these I KNOW were loved. My brother at half the pan. I still have the recipe too. Trust me they are sooooo good! Yummy lemony sugary goodness!
But all my cooking fun ended. My mom was afraid I would burn either myself or the house down, so she started having my grandmother call whenever I so much as looked at the oven/stove sideways. She was VERY protective. Over protective, but that is another story for another day.
Lately I have been thinking about cooking more. Not just opening up that can of soup or tossing something in the oven, but actually doing the whole cooking thing. Like my mom used to do.
My goal for this year is to cook some more. I checked out a Rachael Ray cookbook yesterday. And I got the ingredients to make one of Pioneer Women's desserts. It's the Cherry Cake Pudding one if anyone cares to know.
In my mind this is going to go splendidly. Or at least my fingers are crossed and I hope it will.
Stay tuned for tomorrow. Either I will be posting pictures of how great the dessert came out. Or telling you that I have burned my house down.