So there’s this blog I’m currently obsessed with. It’s one of those food plus anecdotal kinda blogs written by this woman who has a job and a husband and a toddler and two dogs and is working on her PhD and finds the time to cook glorious glorious food AND blog about it and blog about it well. Plus she works out regularly. Lord knows what’s in her Bournvita. I happen to know her personally and that in itself makes me feel accomplished by association.
One of the things I’m looking forward to in my life post-June is having my own kitchen. Now I’ll be honest, I never had any 1950s housewifely ambitions before. But much has changed since Nigella and her Express met cable TV. Now I’ve managed to half-Nelson my mom into giving me the spare oven as a wedding gift. We’ve had it in our family for ages – almost 10 months. It’s practically a family heirloom. Or not. Hee. I can barely wait to start making dishes I can’t even pronounce. So what if my better half thinks that dessert is a joke unless it’s chocolate? Choux Choux, I say!
My first foray into the kitchen was when I was 3. I vaguely remember whisking and then freezing this vile combination of milk, raw eggs, buttermilk and ice cream. I gave it to my brother who (and I’ll love him forever for this) ate it. I also remember making miniature chapattis with my momma. We’d make one for me and one for baby Shivonne. Of course both chapattis would somehow always magically end up on my plate. (Hey, how was I supposed to know that 6 month old babies did not eat solid food? Remember, I was 3 and I’ll admit, not that bright.)
And then there was the Potato Salad debacle of 2001. Did you know that you have to first cook the potato? *Blink blink* Shivonne never let me live that one down. Sigh… with family like this… I was kitchen-shy for the longest time after that. Post 2001, I’d only venture into the kitchen to bake Betty Crocker cakes and the occasional pot of rice. Gradually I got braver and braver and eventually started baking from scratch. Now I can safely say that my cakes and cookies are world famous in my house. More than one person said so. OK. One. OK so it was just me. But work with me here! I even baked a chocolate cake for the fiancé once. After I handed over the cake, he leaned in close and whispered, “Sheryll, you DO know how to make dal, right?"
Hmph.
So as of today, I have exactly 5 weeks of Sampson-ite-ness left. It’s a really fascinating time. I never knew planning a wedding involved so much well, planning. It’s wild. It’s fun. It’s for an hour. I love it. It’s also a little scary. There are so many new roles to fill. I hope I do them justice. I hope I become more patient and understanding and mature. But most of all, I hope I learn how to make dal.
-
