There’s nothing better than home-made cooking, especially when you have a mother that has never cooked a bad meal in her life, however the same can’t be said about my own.
I. Can’t. Cook.
Even with the most basic meal, I either fail on getting timings right, I end up setting off the fire alarm because I can never make Mac n Cheese (yes, I know) without it sticking to the pan or my presentation is disastrous and yet I’ll just eat it anyway.
Despite all of the above, I cannot find the determination and ambition floating around in my female skull to even show the willing to learn and master one of Jamie Oliver’s 30 minute meals or heck, even your bog-standard pasta dish. I was once convinced that I could make the most mean Pasta Bake but upon reflection, I probably owe all credit to my friend Ami on our girls holiday a couple of years ago but hey I grated the cheese!
Women out there will not doubt think I’m letting down the female race and men will probably tell me to get back into the kitchen and make them a bacon sandwich. Trust me on this one guys, you will want to put a lock on the oven after I’ve attempted making one.
I’m not the only woman out there, as a survey last year by the Good Food channel revealed that one in six British women struggle to crack the art of cooking. Although the Daily Mail place “Worringly,” in their article, like it’s some sort of crime, it’s comforting to know that I’m not alone.
The point of this post is not to bleat on about Feminism and how cooking is not just a woman’s job though. In fact, I have a lot of guy friends who can actually rustle up a Sunday roast, especially those that have moved out of their family homes to uni. I don’t show any willing to cook Gourmet meals purely because I don’t really have an interest in food. And before I continue…
1) No, this does not mean that when I am left to fend for myself that I order a take-away- yuck! In fact just earlier, I successfully made pasta in a vegetable sauce with some garlic bread, which is good for me! And…
2) I LOVE food! By interest, I mean, the actual step-by-step process of preparing and making a home-made lasagne. I’m impatient and I’d rather cut out the middle man and see it on my plate.
Don’t get me wrong, I try in vain to follow step-by-step instructions in the various cook books that my mother owns, to the ones on the back of food packaging. However, I either end up overcooking, undercooking, the veg ends up being ready before the main meal or it just doesn’t look like the photo in the book. And my attempts never taste as good as my mother’s.
I’m hoping that one day I might find my inner Nigella and have friends over for dinner parties and what-not. In the meantime, they’ll have to put up with blue soup à la Bridget Jones.