I Officially Have Big Girl Pants

When I was a teenager I was convinced that if I learned certain skills that could be referred to as "women's work," that I would be setting the women's lib movement back by decades.  I avoided learning basic things like sewing and cooking because somehow keeping my skill set low would help propel women into positions of great power.  Hilary Clinton, you're welcome.

This worked out really well for quite a long time.  While I wasn't completely inept at all things involving heat, my cooking abilities were limited to cheese quesadillas, scrambled eggs, and ramen.  I had baked in high school but avoided cooking anything besides tasty sweets because

I AM NOT A HYPOCRITE!

Ahem.  So then I went to grad school.  I was on my own living in a big city with no money to eat out and no one to cook for me, excluding friends who took pity on a hapless Canadian-American with no practical skills (thank you!).  I don't know if it was hunger, dating a chef, or years of critical thinking in college, but I finally realized that avoiding learning how to cook was doing nothing but making me hungry and excluding me from an entire world of creative expression.  I decided to deal with reality and learn how to cook.  

Let me be frank by saying that I fucking hated it.  I had no idea what I was doing.  Meat terrified me, I had no idea what 'sauté' really meant, and the only thing I could consistently make was rice.  Let's just say it was a bland year and I cooked for no one.  

After finishing my coursework I moved back to the states to be with the guy I laser gunned in the face.  We moved in together, which meant that I couldn't get away with cooking atrocities just for myself.  I was going to have to share it with someone I cared about, meaning it had to be better than it-won't-poison-you standards.  This was easier said than done.  Living with someone who had cooked for upwards of 20 years meant that when I cooked, it was either leave me the hell alone or let's get into a fight.  My hatred of cooking continued.

I believe that one sign of a good partner is that they will push you to pursue things you've shown interest in even when you want to throw in the towel.  Laser gun man did just that.  He was and continues to be blown away by my baking, but it took years to get what I got the other night.  For the first time I made a real meal.  I've made pastas and casseroles and soups and other tasty things before that showed my progression as a cook, but the other night I made a simple yet perfectly executed meal. There were baked potatoes that were rubbed in oil, sea salt, and pepper and then baked in the oven, not the microwave.  I made roasted vegetables with rosemary and thyme.  To top it off I baked chicken coated in garlic, rosemary, and thyme.  See the theme here?  

Everything came out at the same time and was cooked perfectly.  The potatoes had a crispy skin, but were soft on the inside.  The chicken was savoury and moist.  The vegetables were cooked but not soggy with mushrooms that had absorbed all the herby goodness.  For the first time, I had successfully made a proper meal and my chef man said he was impressed.  After hearing that I can say that I have officially put on my big girl pants.