Bam! Kick it up a notch!
I have dreams of being the next Emeril. My husband and I were watching cooking shows today (don’t ask me WHY–he usually drools over Norm Abrams’ tools in New Yankee Workshop). Lately my cooking is improving, which is a good thing! I used to be a baker. Cookies, pies, cakes: those were my specialties. Roasts and actual meals? Fuhgeddaboutit. My mother wouldn’t let me near meat. The first time I attempted to make homemade Chinese food was a disaster. My husband walked in the apartment, sniffed, made a face, and said, “WHAT is that SMELL??”:confused:
Um…dinner, honey?
He ate grilled cheese. And I also believe he slept on the couch that night, too. 
It took nearly seven years of marriage for me to learn the intricacies of pleasing a Difficult Eater ™. My husband is one of those. No one ever told me that one of the tricky aspects of marriage is finding that fine balance between the way “his mother made it” and the way “my mother made it.” The first time I made him tomato soup, he nearly fainted dead away when I added water instead of milk. Uh, yeah…I was just following the directions on the can?
Now, I want some of those $400 knives. You know, the ones where the chefs can slice and dice onions at 100 mph without cutting their fingers off? I lust after those. :crazyjumping: I want to be able to have vegetables in those perfectly uniform cubes instead of the haphazard shredded masses that I manage with my $19.99 Farberware knives. Surely a $400 knife would do that for me.
I dream of having unusual ingredients in my cupboards like Orzo and hearts of palm instead of Cocoa Puffs and Uncle Ben’s.
Some day, I’ll know what it means to make a cheese sauce from scratch instead of microwaving Cheez Whiz.
I often feel that’s what my writing is like. I’m aiming for a delicate tomato and basil sandwich on grilled foccacia, sprinkled with freshly grated parmesan cheese. That’s the level I want my vocabulary and writing style to be.
Instead, I end up with a BLT on Wonder Bread with Hellman’s. :confused2:
That’s okay. Someday I’ll get there. 
In the meantime, here’s to kicking it up a notch! 
Michelle posted in Writing @ 6:53 pm | Viewed 1771 times
Bonnie Ferguson Says:
kacey Says:
LOL! Here’s to that delicate foccacia sandwich writing in your future!
gena showalter Says:
I want to come stay with you for a while! I hate to cook. Hate, hate, hate, but boy do I love to eat…
Crystal* Says:
*laughing*
Isn’t that the truth of it? The one thing I took with me when I divorced the ex was a spectacular (easy) crab dip his mother made. And believe me, that’s all I wanted.
I collect recipes. Um…now I must utilize them.
I like it quick and easy. Get in. Get out. Get on with my life. Now if, however, I had someone to cook for me…that would be a different story entirely.
Grins*
Steph T. Says:
*shudders at the thought of cooking* My husband’s the cook around here. But your cooking/analogy is hystercial!
Except now I’m hungry:jumping:
katie Says:
Love love love to cook.
Need need need to kick my writing up a notch, too! Must Do That.
LauraP Says:
Cooking analogies on a diet day.
Here’s to delicate focaccia for all.
Melissa Says:
My husband is the chef in our family. I can cook, but I really don’t enjoy it. I used to love to make homemade cookies and cake, but anymore, I don’t have the time or the inclination.
Jill Says:
I admire people who can cook, since I have not an ounce of skill or desire.
Margery Scott Says:
I do love your analogies, Michelle. Here’s to both of us becoming gourmet writers
Sharon Says:
Michelle, I certainly wasn’t born a cook either. It was several years into my marriage before we didn’t eat out 5 days a week.
I go in binges now. Right now, I’m in a cooking slump. (as in I haven’t done it in forever) But I keep promising myself that after vacation I’ll start cooking again.
Tori Says:
Thanks a lot, Michelle. Now I’m starving! :crazyjumping: Feed me!
Suzanne Says:
Delicate eaters would die of starvatio in my house!
Michelle Says:
Margery–I love that. Gourmet writers. How amazing would that be?