Cooking

Conversation from about a year ago…
Dad: You know, you really should learn a foreign language, like Spanish.
Me: I took two years of Spanish in high school and a full year in college.
Dad: Yeah, but you didn’t learn anything.

Based on that conversation, I really shouldn’t have been surprised on his reaction that I was asked to be featured as a chef for our weekly newspaper. Don’t get excited; it’s not a big deal. The girl who is writing the article worked as an intern at the paper while I was there, and she needed victims, I mean, volunteers. Dang those “v” words. At any rate, I agreed to help out.

First off, while I DID clean my house (or at least the part that would be photographed), I neglected to put ANY thought or time to cleaning myself up. Yes, I bathed. But my hair looked a wreck, and my outfit was a little less homemaker-y and a little more “let’s order in.” But, alas, that is my personality.

Anyway, back to Dad. So I told Dad I got asked to do the chef article, and what does he do? BURST OUT LAUGHING.

“WHAT ARE YOU LAUGHING ABOUT?” I demanded.

“Wait, seriously? They asked you to be in the chef article?” he asked.

I didn’t find it quite as amusing. I’m a competent cook. I make one heck of a good gumbo (thanks for the recipe, Misti) and outstanding chili, if I do say so myself. I also have a recipe for cream tacos (ask for it; I’ll be happy to give it to you. I’ve posted it here before.) that I learned growing up that is pretty delicious. I’m a good cook. I’m just not that big of a FAN of cooking.

I like baking. Seriously, why cook when you can’t lick the bowl? I made a sopapilla cheesecake the other night that was pretty amazing, if I do say so myself. That cheesecake recipe I posted a while back? It’s pretty awesome, too. And I do good breads, if I do say so myself.

However, it’s well known in our family that while I may be the baker, my husband is the chef. While my recipes take mainly about 30 minutes or less to cook (as well as 10 ingredients or less and one to two pans), his recipes will take a full 2-4 hours, about a million ingredients, and – SERIOUSLY – every stinking pan, pot, bowl, and utensil we own. BUT the man does know how to cook. He makes an alfredo sauce that is heaven-sent. One day (before he had diabetes, but what probably helped kick the diabetes into full form) we decided simply to get French bread and eat it with the alfredo sauce. Oh, it was good. Delicious. And well-worth it. But it was painful later. He’s like Emeril but cheaper. We obviously eat well in our household.

So E comes to interview me yesterday for the article. It took a lot for me NOT to type up some quotes and just hand them to her – or just type the article myself. However, I restrained my inner journalist who doesn’t speak well in interviews and let E conduct her interview. She asked really good questions and will write a better article than I would have, lol. Husband and Rindy were around, too, to make sure I didn’t say anything really stupid. They had to stop me just a couple of times. ;)

E’s camera broke at my house. She used mine. So I get to see the photos before they go in the newspaper. YEA!!!

Oh, and remember how I said I cleaned my house? Yeah, I did. But I forgot about the Mardi Gras beads….







At any rate, we’ll see Sunday how the article turns out!

BTW, wondering what recipe I made? Thanks to Sara, I used a Cuban Pork Roast recipe -- and it is always a hit!