Growing up, I didn't exactly have a chef in the kitchen. We were fed, but cooking consisted of a few meals in a steady rotation. (Pizza Hut and Burger King were also part of that rotation.)
And then I entered junior high where I was introduced to actual cooking. For me, it was a whole new world. All those random ingredients dancing together just perfectly could make magic!
My poor brother. He was subjected to my quest to create the perfect spaghetti sauce. I still had no knowledge of fresh ingredients, but was convinced that I could make the recipe just a bit better if I kept trying. He will not eat spaghetti to this day.
And my mother. She had to contend with her night owl daughter. She would go to bed early and wake up in the morning to find a filthy kitchen and many loaves of fresh made bread.
I've grown up a bit. I'm more selective of my ingredients, but the love is still there. My favorite night of the week is Saturday. It's my night to grab a glass of wine, turn the tv on in the background, and try a new recipe. I fail more than I succeed, but that's not the point. Its almost a form of therapy. Just me trying to find that next combination of "healthy" ingredients that will impress the harshest critic--me!
So tonight, I made my first roasted chicken (Success!) and mashed cauliflower (Fail!). But I was able to be creative in my own way. I was able to "unplug" by leaving my phone in the other room for two hours. I was able to just be and think. How the food came out is secondary. Tonight was a win.
Tomorrow, I will go back into the kitchen where I will prepare a couple of tried and true recipes to get me through the week. And I have another week to try to find new recipes for next week's therapy session.