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I am a food network and cooking channel fanatic.  And when I say fanatic I mean it is on my tv all day everyday.  I have become quite the chef just from watching cooking shows.  Chopped is probably my favorite hence why I have 35 episodes saved on my DVR.  Right now I am watching Bobby Flay make his wife some delicious looking biscuits and gravy which I will be taking note since they are a huge love of in this house.   Apparently his wife is mad at him and he is trying to win her over…personally the way to my heart is not through my stomach but more like 20 minutes to myself in a tub with a glass of wine and maybe a massage before bed ((trailing off dreaming here)).  Back to reality… I think I just discovered what I am going to be making for dinner tonight…yes I am one of those people who likes breakfast for dinner and so is the rest of my clan.

Now I didn’t always like to cook.  I wasn’t one of those kids who was always trying to put something together and call it food.  My mother had to literally force me to learn how to cook anything other then mac and cheese in the box.  She used to have me make dinner a couple times a week and every time I either burnt or undercooked something.  I was horrible at it.

Now over time I would pick up recipes here and there, usually very simple ones, and I would try to perfect the ones that I really liked and that were liked by others but still just never quite conquered the art of cooking not to mention I just really didn’t like to cook.  How would I ever become domesticated if I couldn’t even boil water correctly?  Back then it was easy because I didn’t have any little mouths to feed therefore there was a lot of eating out.  I miss the days of eating out all the time…no mess…someone else does the cooking and the cleaning up. ((trailing again))

Now when I met my husband I had become somewhat domesticated by this point…I mean I would hope that at 35 I had learned how to at least boil water and not burn the toast.Unknown  He too was quite domesticated which was one of the traits I loved about him.  He had the ability to take any leftover ingredients in the fridge and throw them together and make it tasty.  Wonder what ever happened to that man that used to do that cause these days I am lucky if I can get him to throw meat on the grill.

In our old house I liked to “cook” but didn’t really get into “cooking” I would make the basics…spaghetti, chili, broiled chicken breast.  But whatever I was cooking had to have meat…I learned early on that a meal was not a meal unless there was meat involved, per my husband.  I tried making a pasta dish one time with no meat in it and had to hear him complain for the rest of the night.  Listening to him complain is like listening to teeth scraping across a fork…very unpleasant.

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Now this is probably what I would resemble if I were to have my own cooking show.  I still have no clue how these chefs can talk and cook at the same time.  I can’t walk and chew gum therefore I would not attempt to have at my own cooking show cause who wants to just watch someone scurry around like a chicken with her head cut off trying to cut the head off of a chicken?  Make sense? Of course not and neither does the way I cook.  But over time I have come to appreciate the art of cooking.  Not so much that I would run out and join some kind of cooking competition but enough that I feel confident in what I am making for the family.  That doesn’t always mean that what I whoop up is a hit.  Like for instance the time I got into making several types of pesto and putting that pesto on EVERYTHING…yeah that didn’t go over too well in this family.

So I carry on, introducing new items to my own personal cooking skilled menu.  The fun part is I don’t find myself making the same stuff all the time.  I mean if I can’t have variety in anything else in my life mine as well have a great versatile relationship with food right?

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DomesticatedMomster

I am a mother of 5, a wife to 1, and a fully certified domesticated momster who likes to blog about motherhood, marriage, and anything else that pops into my crazy head all with a side of sarcasm and a glass of wine.

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