Me? Cooking?

Ever since I moved out of my parents’ place at age 21, I have hated food.  I hate that I need it. I hate that I have to buy it (and pay even more for it when I go out).  I hate that I waste valuable time eating it when I could be doing something else.  And because of my “picky eater” tendencies, I hate that as you get older the act of breaking bread becomes a catalyst for social situations.  Why do people need to sit at a table with a plate in front of them to inspire conversation?  Why can’t we just sit, talk, and if that gets boring, get drunk?

But I digress.

Yesterday was Jackie and I’s 2-year anniversary.  Unfortunately, our schedules were hectic over the weekend and we couldn’t really do anything extremely noteworthy.  In fact, the only time we had to ourselves was Sunday morning.  As this was the case, I told my soon to be wife that for our anniversary I would make her breakfast: Eggs, Bacon, Pancakes, Toast, Strawberries, and Sunny Delight (orange juice makes Jackie throw up).

If you’re over the age of ten and don’t know me, I’m sure you’re sarcastically thinking “Wow….breakfast.  Did you even drive to the store in the “vroom vroom” and get the food all by yourself?”  If you do know me, however, you’ll know that a simple breakfast is a rather daunting task. (And yes, I did get the damn food all by myself)

Basically, since I’ve been on my own I’ve acquired food in three ways:

  1. Going to restaurants, usually of the fast food variety.
  2. Having someone else cook
  3. Making “the meal” at home. (“The meal” consists of a plain hamburger cooked on a Foreman grill, Ore Ida French fries and four chicken nuggets in the oven, a small serving of pickles, and a large glass of milk.) I seriously have eaten this meal at least twice a week for the past four years.

Outside of what you just read, the closest I come to cooking is when I really mix it up and make instant mashed potatoes (admittedly, though, it took a few tries to perfect ‘em.)

So I decided to throw it all to the wayside (my hatred of food, my resistance to try new things, and my inability to cook) in an effort to make my lady happy.  I was a total nervous wreck as I was cooking, and I was sure the meal would reflect it.

We sat down to eat, and something very strange happened.  With every bite that she and I took, realizations became clearer and clearer.  I began to notice that neither of us had dropped dead yet.  And when I took a bite, I had no urge to vomit.  In fact, I wanted to keep eating.  Holy shit!!! I made breakfast and it tastes like…….Breakfast!

Perhaps next year I will decipher the perplexing wonder that is….the omelet.


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5 Responses to “Me? Cooking?”

  1. It Girl Says:

    I’m so proud of you! Congratulations!

  2. stupidfitter Says:

    i’ll help ya along with that enigmatic omelet jameson

  3. dwellephant Says:

    So, when are you going to be on Top Chef: Breakfast Masters?

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