Wednesday, April 19, 2006


Despite occasional kitchen disasters, I think I'm a decent cook (well of course I would, wouldn't I?). This despite the fact that I come from a family of dedicated and creative cooks to whom I do not hold a candle. In fact, I'm so accustomed to great mother-chefs that I'm always a little surprised when I come across a mother who is a bad cook. Surprised and often amused. Michael Blowhard's mom seems to have been a bad cook:
If food needed to be consumed, then let it be as little trouble as possible. My mother dreamed of a day when people would subsist on astronaut food (pills, and paste in tubes, basically). She really did. Until then, as far as she was concerned, canned and frozen nourishment would have to do. Was it tasteless? Mushy? Oversalted? A small price to pay.
But my favorite bad mommy cook is the late mother of a co-worker who would put on meals so terrible that my co-worker would have to make sure to stop at McDonald's on the way to his annual Thanksgiving dinner visit.

I'm pretty sure my spouse doesn't fuel up before dinner--ergo my belief that I'm a decent cook. On the other hand, he often claims that he would be satisfied subsisting on astronaut food (especially when he's forced to clean up after my "decent" cooking). The eight year old certainly prefers items such as frozen chicken nuggets and microwaved hot dogs to my home-made Pasta al Mediterraneo. With an audience like this, don't you agree it's no wonder I haven't developed beyond "decent"?


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