When YOU Love to Cook – and Your Friends Don’t…
MasterChef and My Kitchen Rules are compulsory viewing in my house because I absolutely LOVE cooking and love trying new recipes. You could even say I’m slightly obsessed with it.
When we have friends come for dinner I spend sometimes days debating over what to make and have been known to be wide awake at 3am contemplating pulled pork cooking times vs. a slow-roasted lamb shoulder option not to mention the mind boggling decision of what sides to serve and lastly; do I go full cray-cray on a death-by-chocolate dessert or try and be kinder to everyone’s already exploding stomachs with a lighter option?
Oh, and nearly forgot – the starters. That’s a WHOLE other thing to consider.
It is a labour of love for me. It brings me joy and happiness and there’s nothing quite as much fun (for me) as spending an entire day in the kitchen (sometimes two) preparing it all. And I am over joyed when it all goes to plan and everyone loves what I’ve made and equally devastated when disaster strikes and I’m left apologising for some new, weird dish that didn’t turn out like I’d hoped.
You might be reading this saying and bully for you, what does this have to do with anything remotely interesting for me to read?
Well I have one dilemma with this cooking caper. And that is – no one else I know in our circle of friends feels the same way about cooking as I do. Not one. And that means they don’t EVER want to have us for dinner. Which really sucks. Cause I do not give two shits that my friends don’t like to cook. And I give zero shits about what they do serve when they do rustle something up. But every time they do, I feel the tension coming off them in waves because they feel like they HAVE to whip up something that meets my approval and I hate, hate, hate that. I would be happy with pizza. Or bacon and eggs. Or a big bowl of spag bol (with garlic bread, yum). Seriously.
But I don’t think they think that they can do that. They get SERIOUSLY stressed out and nervous and all freaky and it makes me feel terrible. Well let me put in writing here: It is NOT a competition. We all have our talents and we all have our hobbies. I can’t sing. I can’t draw. I can’t sew. I’m terrible at sports. But give me this joy. Let me feed you. And if you need to reciprocate, Pizza Hut is fine with me! I swear.