I love preparing meals at home. I love all the thought that goes into it; the planning, shopping, timing, learning new skills. I even enjoy the anxiety I experience while I make it.
“Will everything be thoroughly cooked?”
“Will it all be done on time?
“Will I be able to multitask three dishes at once?”
The anxiety is at its highest when everyone sits down to eat. I try to act normal, but at this time I am looking around, analyzing faces, paying attention to which item they are eating and which they are (seemingly) trying to avoid.
My Dad isn’t afraid to give criticism. He always does it in a kind manner, though. He wants me to learn, and he knows that I want to continue improving. I can say that so far I haven’t made the same mistake twice because of it, if I remember correctly.
Today I prepared 6 steaks, cooked on my cast iron, along with 7 baked potatoes, and cooked homegrown green beans. I didn’t receive one complaint. The steaks were “as good as it gets”, according to my Dad. He didn’t want any sauce because he “hated ruining a good steak”.
This gives me a lot of satisfaction.
Satisfaction that I fed my family.
Satisfaction that I did well.
Satisfaction that I learned how to cook a new meal.
Satisfaction that I didn’t burn the house down.
I wrote this back on July 21st, after I prepared my first steaks. They have been the only batch that have finished properly, however. It may be due to the fact that we have bought different steaks since then, our electric oven, or my setting the temperature wrong. I am still working on improving my cooking, but I enjoy it nonetheless. 😉