I’m responsible for destroying hospitality in my family line. My grandmother made delicious fresh farm to table meals each day. She served dinner, which was lunch, as the grandfather clock chimed precisely at noon. Supper, aka dinner, was at 5:00pm sharp. Every balanced meal had protein, carbs, fresh garden vegetables, and homemade dessert. I spent much time beside my grandmother in the kitchen learning the tricks of the trade. Add a pinch of sugar to the homemade tomato sauce, sear the pot roast to seal in the juices, canning and freezing the garden harvest, etc.
My mom disliked cooking, but she always provided good meals. Even as a working mom, she could pull together a good chili, pot roast, crock pot dinner or casserole, and figure out something suitable for guests.
I’m So Amazing…NOT!
After my snowboard career, I became a stay-at-home parent so I could focus on my babies. How hard could it be when I had all the time in the world to be the Susie Homemaker of the universe? An Olympic athlete surely could pull this off. My travels conditioned me to buy organic meals from upscale markets so I could eat healthy, have time to stay active, and limit items stored in my refrigerator when I was away. However, when my adventurous lifestyle came to a screeching halt, I seemed to have lost any past culinary knowledge. I could fill in license plate frames that say, “I rather be…” with literally ANYTHING other than cooking.
Planning Schmanning
First, I am unorganized and like my schedule open for last-minute opportunities. Of course I rather skip a meal than give up something exciting, even with kids. Second, I don’t love grocery shopping. It goes back to being unorganized because I end up buying random items that I never use. Third, even when I find a recipe hoping to create a legitimate meal, buy all the ingredients and do my best to follow step-by-step instructions, I fail. Often. Therefore, my family gets taco night, again and again.
Nothing Beats Commiserating With a Friend
My friend Rebecca is equally at the top echelon of botched meals. We have turned our disastrous results into our personal comedy show over the years. We die laughing as we share photos and titles of our horrific meals. Our families suffered over the years, and we end up over spending on food, yet the sheer entertainment is worth all the trouble.
My Fault Is My Default
“Let’s just get take-out,” is my default. Although I enjoy being hospitable, it’s questionable if the guests will survive my meals. Green Chef helps my cooking dysfunction and allows for yummy meals with my family, but I still want to improve my cooking skills to delight an audience and make my grandmother proud.
Help!
Please send me your favorite and EASY recipes. I promise to try some of them and post Instagram shots of my attempts. In conclusion, I’m ok with people gaining joy from laughing at me—no, not with me, because I’m usually not laughing until it’s the only thing left to do!
Enjoy a couple of Rebecca and my burnt and botched creations.
