I am the kitchen bitch.
I don't know what I am doing. Michael runs the show; he says, 'Stir'; I say, 'for how long?'
He mixes and beats and follows the recipes. I follow behind him washing everything (muttering under my breath that I should have waited to clean the kitchen) He is a cooking tornado. I am TOTALLY comfortable with this arrangement. I can not be trusted with feeding anyone...except Henry. And he doesn't even take his bottles warm (one less thing I can screw up). We used to warm them, but then we realized he was more upset waiting for the bottle than he was drinking cold milk. So now he gets cold milk, and doesn't mind a bit.
He is like his mama; when he wants to eat, he wants to eat NOW.
Michael volunteered to bring the turkey for his office Thanksgiving. So we are making two turkeys this year. I don't know how the 4 office ladies and Michael are going to go through that enormous bird, but I'm not asking questions.
I saw a few posts on Facebook this morning concerning Thanksgiving dinner preparations and cooking strategies. I really wish this could be me. I wish I liked to cook. I wish I had a talent for just 'throwing things together' and impressing everyone. My mother and grandmother wish this for me too.
To their credit, they will not give up on me.
My grandma even gave me a subscription to Taste of Home. I had no idea she was doing this; it just started coming to the house. If that's not a hint I don't know what is.
Instead the magazine comes; I glance through it and see something that looks tasty.... and then I ask Michael to make it....
I definitely know that is not how they wanted it to go down. Oh well.
When I do decide to try and make something it is a day long process that involves several phone calls to my mother. Is this the right size dish? How long should I let it sit? Should I let it thaw before I cook it? How many cans of this do I use? Is it supposed to look like that? What do I do next? It looks funny, I think I forgot the vegetables, is it to late to add them?
I think on those days she just puts her cell phone in her pocket and hunkers down. I love her so much.
And after all that, it just doesn't taste good. It doesn't taste like my mom makes it. It doesn't taste like anything. Its just bland. I cook beige food. Its gross.
So I wish you all a Happy Thanksgiving full of non-beige food, friends and family. If you want I can come over and clean up.