I was peeling potatoes tonight for dinner and a childhood memory came to mind. I hated peeling potatoes. I would whine and moan and stop mid swipe and groan about how much I truly HATED peeling potatoes. Come to think of it- I hated basically every kitchen chore. Washing dishes, taking out the trash, sweeping. And my mom would always remind me that one day- I will need to know how to do these things for my own family. I disagreed.
I made up my mind that I was tired of girls being the only ones that did that stuff. I rebelled against it for most of my life. I only cleaned if I HAD to- and well, if you knew my friend Kelly- she would have some stories to tell you about my attempts at cooking. I became very fond of my microwave. In fact- when I lived alone in a basement apartment where the only shared appliances with the upstairs household was the stove- I bought a separate microwave and didn’t enter their kitchen at any time. I lived there a year. Yes, I shudder at the thought.
I did not start cooking until I had a child. When I started thinking that microwaved meals may not be what I prefer to put into her little body. When I saw the benefit of adding ingredients I could pronounce and control the portions. And when I stepped up to the big box called “stove”- I discovered my hidden skill. I could cook. Now that it was my family and my choice- I actually knew how. So, yes mom. You were right. As you are about so many things. But my hashbrowns were undercooked.