Happily married mom to 3, homeschooling wanna-be homesteader, keeper of chickens (fresh eggs!) and about a million furry indoor animals.
I started my marriage only knowing how to cook Hamburger Helper and frozen burritos. Now, 16 years later, I am probably a pretty good cook, but I still often feel like I don't know what the heck I'm doing in the kitchen.
My favorite things to cook
I'm a sucker for water-raised meat products. I love to cook shrimp, scallops, bass, catfish, crawfish, and mussels. (Can you say Cajun? YUM!) Also a huge fan of the seldom-loved asparagus, lima beans, and Brussels sprouts.
My favorite family cooking traditions
When I was a kid, my great uncle had a large farm. The years he grew sweet corn, the entire extended family got together to shuck, clean, cook, and cut corn for freezing. All Day Long. You ended the day sticky everywhere from the corn sugars and completely covered in corn silk, but with a belly full of "roastin' ears" and a basket full of corn to eat all year.
I've continued that tradition, much smaller-scale, with my kids and a few friends. We fill a truck bed with ears from a local farm and spend the afternoon shucking, cooking, and cutting. While they have a good time, my kids sometimes complain about all the "work" (2 or 3 measly hours) and the sticky hands, and I always tell them, "Kid, you've got no idea."
My cooking triumphs
My biggest triumph and my biggest tragedy are the same story. I do not bake. I absolutely suck at it - burn things, don't mix them properly, cakes stick and cookies fall apart. I loathe baking. But one year for my daughter's first birthday, I decided to attempt a cake. It was strawberry, and it didn't even stick to the pan. It cooled perfectly and frosted beautifully with cream cheese frosting. I decorated it with gorgeous sliced strawberries, and I even piped on some fabulous-looking leaves. I had baked! And it was perfect! I finished the last leaf and then stood back, turning the cake ever so slightly to admire it...
My cooking tragedies
And THEN... I turned the cake a smidge too close to the edge of the counter, and the whole thing fell, upside-down, on the floor. My just-one-year-old daughter was there with me in the kitchen, and immediately went for it, just eating handfuls of frosting and cake right off the floor. (Hey, my floors are clean.) I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Finally I just laughed. And laughed and laughed. It was her cake anyway.