I love cooking.
I don’t get much time to cook for pleasure, so it is often more of a functional thing, but one day I will have time to do that.
I loved cooking and baking as a child, and any opportunity to be the kitchen, I was there. I baked a lot with my grandmother, took home economics food classes at school and loved trying new things out.
I was gradually allowed more freedom in the kitchen at home as I got older and I liked to cook things for my family.
A family favourite back then was spag bol (just like it is in our house these days). I had watched my mum make it hundreds of times, how hard could it be right?
I offered to make it for everyone one weekend. I must have been about 12 I think.
I was so impressed with my chopping and remembering everything I needed.
I put the mince in the pan and began breaking it up with the spatula. As I did this enthusiastically I realised something…
You know the paper that it stuck to the bottom of the mince? Well, erm…I had forgotten to take it off and had instead mashed it up in the pan with the mince and onions. I felt myself get very hot. What an idiot right? I pulled out all the really big bits that I could see easily and then I had two choices as I saw it.
- Confess all to my parents – they would be cross I had wasted the mince and wouldn’t let me cook for a while
- Carry on, and serve the food – they might not notice
I opted for option number 2!
I carried on cooking and served with lots of parmesan, a side salad, with a homemade dressing and poured them a nice glass of red wine.
They never noticed…and I never confessed.
And do you know what?
They said it was so good I could cook again!
Do you have any cooking confessions ?