A year ago, my definition of cooking was telling my husband to go throw some chicken on the grill, while I heated up some Kraft Mac n’ Cheese the stove.
Now, don’t get me wrong, I still love me some marinated, grilled chicken and creamy Kraft Mac n Cheese, but one day, something just came over me:
A sudden urge to be a better housewife (despite also having a full-time job).
Maybe it was Pinterest, and all its Stepford Wife users, polluting my once care-free brain. Maybe it was my brand new kitchen, with oodles of counter space, that I had just moved into. Maybe it was just that I was 25 and married and realized I needed to grow the hell up.
Whatever the reason, something clicked, and I started actually *wanting* to cook. And ever since, whenever I share my cooking triumphs and failures with friends & family, I’m always met with the same shock and awe: “you can cook?”
So this is my way of proving that, yes, World, I can cook (or at least I can try to).