There are a lot of things I wish I was better at and cooking definitely tops the list. If left to my own devices, I'm quite capable of burning the crap out of a pot of water. I could blame the voices in my head for my lack of kitchen skills (and I have in fact blamed them on many occasions in the past–but really, who could be expected to pay attention to a little thing like flipping the food to avoid scorch marks when an intense fight scene is playing out in their head?)
Anyway… Most days I manage to conceal my dislike/ineptness for all things culinary (except the eating part) and put together something decent for my kids. And then along comes a problem. Let's call it…My Sister's 30th Birthday Bash. Now I have no choice but to acknowledge that I'm toeing the line of my comfort zone when it comes to food prep. With the growing guest list I'm not going to be able to get away with just a dip for nacho chips. A wee bit of a dilemma, no?
Enter Jeff, henceforth known as Master Chef. Master Chef (has a nice ring to it, don't you think?) loves to cook. It works out rather well for me since I love to eat. And what better way to solve the birthday bash problem than to encourage Master Chef to embrace his mad culinary skills and use them for the better good–namely saving all the party guests who would otherwise be subjected to my water-burning talents.
Win-win, right? Yeah, that's what I think too. Now comes the hard part–getting Master Chef to acknowledge the brilliance of my plan.
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