"You can cook??"

I don't know if I can count how many times someone has asked me this question... Usually somewhat incredulously. I always respond the same way-- "Yes, I like food too much not to try."  The thing is cooking, like most things, is about confidence. It's about choosing what you want to accomplish, believing you can accomplish that thing, and then actively deciding how you will accomplish it. 

For me cooking is about creativity. I almost consider it art. It's important for me to realize that in the kitchen, just like everywhere else, I won't do things the same way you will. And that's ok. 

Anyone can cook-- it's not always as exact a science as some would have you think. But to know what works for you, you have to be ready to fail. And to try again. And to fail again. 

Not every recipe will turn out exactly as you want, and not every type of food will be your forte. But that doesn't mean you can't cook, it means that you need to find your signature dish... And maybe that one wasn't it. 

Tonight, for a work potluck, I took a red velvet cake mix and changed up the added ingredients to make it my own. Here's the recipe I used:

• 1 box Duncan Hines red velvet cake mix
• 1 small box Jello instant chocolate pudding mix (3.9 oz I think)
• 1 cup sour cream
• 1 cup canola oil (I subbed Apple sauce, because I do not use vegetable oil)
• 4 eggs, beaten
• 1/2 cup milk
• 1 tsp pure vanilla extract

To frost the cake, I wanted something on the lighter side so I combined whipped cream and creamed cheese and whipped them to frosting consistency. Here are pictures of the cake project. 

So as you can see, the finished product doesn't look like the work of a master chef. But it is mine. It is a labor of love. I tried something new tonight, and I knew I could do it. But I wasn't afraid to fail either. 

And though it might not look the best, judging by the tiny sliver I took from the side, this particular endeavor was a success. Here's hoping my coworkers think so too!

A Labor of Love

 My parents were preparing to leave me alone in my first apartment-- a three bed one bath summer rental on Pennsylvania Avenue. It was the summer after my senior year in college, and I had my first internship at the U.S. Department of Labor. My mom was walking through the apartment, making sure all of my belongings had a place--one last time. 

She walked into the galley kitchen and stood in front of the stove. "You don't need this, " she said and pulled the cover over the burners. "Just use the microwave." 

I didn't argue. I agreed with her. At 21, you could say my experience with cooking was minimal at best. I could make soup, microwave eggs and stir cakes, and lick brownie batter from a bowl... But that was about it. 

As a person with a physical disability (who walks with armbraces and has some issue with fine motor skills) I was scared of the kitchen. It felt foreign to me. I felt that I didn't belong there.  

I had absolutely LOVED playing with my full toy kitchen when I was a kid, but this was different. The stove could burn. The knives could cut. And the food wasn't plastic... And certainly cost real money   

Yep. As far as I was concerned, eating Lean Cuisines out of a micro for the next 50 years seemed like an excellent idea. 

But then something changed. I fell in love. My then boyfriend who stayed with me the majority of that summer became a big part of my life for the next several years. That summer though-- we had a Sunday night ritual-- Sex and the City on my tiny bedroom TV and burgers from Froggy Bottom Pub. 

His last Sunday in DC, we were fighting, but like clockwork, he came through the door around 8 pm, a bag of burgers in one hand, and a six pack of Sam Adams in the other. 

He sat down next to me on the couch and kissed my bare shoulder. "We're going to figure this out, love."

He set the styrofoam container in front of me and opened it to reveal my favorite burger, fries, and 2 containers of honey mustard dressing, my condiment of choice. We ate. We laughed. We were silent. But there, somewhere in the warm familiarity of sharing a meal, I felt deep, abiding connection and love. 

Sharing a meal to me had always been a labor of love. I had grown up with a mother who loved to cook for our family. Making meals she knew we would enjoy was always a way to share her affection, and I could tell it made her happy, too. And when I thought ahead to my own family, I wanted to share that same labor of love. I thought about how much I wanted to be able to cook for my friends and family  and to share from-scratch food with them as a way to shower them with affection. 

I also thought ahead to the best way to show love for myself, and for this imperfect, yet perfectly-made body God has blessed me with. I want to treat His gift to me for what it is, and nourish myself not only with His Word, but also with clean, fresh food that He has provided for us on and from the Earth. 

I'm fairly certain Lean Cuisine doesn't grow on trees. 

And so my journey with cooking began. 

In this blog you will find cooking tips. tricks, recipes, horrors, and success stories from me as well as other guest bloggers, including my good friend Erin. 

If ever you have a suggestion, question, or comment about some aspect of cooking or meal prep you want me to address here, please feel free to let me know. 

Bon appetit, y'all.