A Domestic Dilemma

My mom is a fantastic cook. Really fantastic. She loves it too - whenever Jeff or I (and now Oliver) come home, she's constantly whipping up these incredible meals. Turkey dinners, elaborate soups with homemade breads, salads with fancy dressings. Delicious, and touching too, since food is one of the ways she shows love.

My grandma is phenomenal as well. Visits to her house in the summer always began with molasses cookies and watermelon pickles (don't knock 'em till you've tried 'em), then continued on with 7 days of non-stop eating. She once made a chicken salad that was the greatest thing I have ever eaten. I was about three bites in, and weeping tears of joy, when she announced that she hoped the salad wasn't too terrible - she had really messed up the recipe. She couldn't remember exactly where she had gone wrong but anyhow, she'd never make that mistake again, whatever it was. Oh, the agony! And the simultaneous ecstasy! This incredible chicken salad, the knowledge I'd never taste it again. Sweet torture.

Basically then, I was born into a family of women who know what to do with food, and love to do it. And it's really throwing me for a loop. Who am I, and who am I going to become, kitchen-wise? Is it my destiny to lovingly/passionately prepare thousands of meals for my family, or will I give up and decide I have other ways I'd rather spend my time?

This probably sounds like a ridiculous thing to give thought to, but I end up thinking about it a little bit every day. It's the strangest thing. I'm all about cooking, and really get a charge out of its benefits. I think of all the money we'll save over the course of a lifetime if we don't eat out every day... I think of how much healthier we'll be overall if I can control the ingredients that go into our food... and honestly, a part of me thinks of this beautiful connection I'll have with people like my grandma and her grandma, and all the other women who have built our family. So I feel this almost uncontrollable force (I know! Doesn't it just sound so weird?) pulling me into the kitchen. Aaaaaallison.... You know you waaaaaaant to...

At the same time though, I get really pissed off if I feel like I'm spending too much time in the kitchen. There's something about that word - kitchen - that sets off all these alarm bells. The kitchen? Isn't that what women fought to get out of? If I'm spending all this time there, does this mean I'm turning my back on the things I should want and am just going back to the wifely default - Kinder, Kueche, Kirche? I know this line of thought is ridiculous and flawed in many, many ways... but the basic idea remains. I want to be in the kitchen and become this health food master, but feel a little trapped at the same time. Ridiculous.

I'm sure this will all work itself out over time. For now, I guess I'll just continue to cook and then bitch about it. Because I really do like it. And Gol, I can't believe I'm the one usually stuck doing it!