The Hammockers

I Know How to Cook, I Just Don't Know If I'm Any Good At It.

I grew up in a family of scratch cooks. All my relatives and by relatives I mean the women, cooked every night. All our family gatherings were filled with dishes that were all homemade. I don't think anyone was a great cook. It was all pretty basic, rustic fare. No one went to fancy culinary schools or apprenticed with master, world renowned  chefs but the food was wholsome and fresh. Each of my aunts as well as my mother all had dishes for which they were known for and therefore expected to always bring to our pretty large get togethers. I had no interest in what I viewd then as kitchen slavery. I was an unwilling participant in anything domesticly related. I hated all of it.

Guess what? I didn't have much of a choice. I was fully expected to help out in the kitchen as much as my mother deemed necessary. It was a lot more than I was willing to pitch in. A strange thing happened too. Although I had no interest in it, I had to learn to cook. When my mother returned to work full time, my job was to cook at least once a week. Suddenly, I became known for my own signature dish. It was baked mac-n-cheese, made with love (resentment) by little ole me. I made it so much because it was easy and I was lazy but instead of my family becoming sick of it, they looked even more forward to it. I'll never fully understand routine lovers.

Under these conditions, you learn a few things in the kitchen whether you want to or not. Imagine my surprise then when after I left home, I met people who actually didn't know how to cook at all? Some didn't even know how to boil water. Whatttttt???? Wait, wasn't there a 90's cooking show called "How to Boil Water?" Is it true that there are actually people out there who don't know how to boil water? Come on people!

Once my first child was born, after a long enough hiatus of eating packaged ravioli at the kitchen sink accompanied by bad chablis, eating crap out with friends, and a single chastising by my husband who caught me eating chocolate cake one day for breakfast (channeling what's left of  Bill Cosby's career) and rather undelicately told me that now that we had a toddler, I couldn't get away with stuff like that anymore, I returned to my cooking roots by cooking every night (yay!). It was like riding a bike. It just all came so naturally. Spurred on by Mike who was always after a good homecooked meal (who isn't?) and showing his traditional bent a little more than I cared for, I became a dynamo in the kitchen. I could move like a force of nature and multi task like nobody's business to get a meal on the table. I expanded my repetoire because I never went out for my mother's same 10 dishes in constant rotation. In other words, I finally embraced the role until one day, I didn't.

I now cook every night for my family whether I want to or not. Most days, I don't want to. Mike used to like to cook andused to go out for some real showstopper meals but those days are gone and since he currently is our only breadwinner, I can't very well expect more. All I get now from my loved ones is the endless what's for dinner question on a loop. Let's face it, shopping, preparing and cooking are the biggest time sucks. I've seen those fancy blog pages full of gorgeous, professional grade, step by step recipe photos captioned by the happiest people to be making this awesome food that their family and friends can't get enough of and RAVE about. 

I also do my fair share of baking as I have an insatiable sweet tooth and a problem buying processed, packaged crap. I started a bad habit with my kids years ago with dessert every night because a day without sweets is like a day with out sunshine. I am currently trying to change this because sugar is not our friend. I always add less to whatever I am baking. I know I am on the right track when my husband says, hey, this could use a little more sugar. I have also started experimenting a lot more with non-wheat flours. My faves so far are almond and coconut. I do a lot of experimental baking which means that I have no idea if it will actually be good until my entire family tries it and gives me the thumbs up (or down). They are always willing participants and great guinea pigs.

Below is a haphazhard bunch of my favorite recipes in no particular order.