My kids say I am a good cook. Probably because they HAD to eat whatever I put in front of them when they were kids. They always had an option though….take it or leave it. If they wouldn't eat left-overs they were sol (shit-outa-luck). They didn't often have to worry about that, because as growing children, there was rarely a scrap of anything left.
The regularity of my cooking was very predictable. Only rarely did we eat out. I had young children or teenagers at home for 27 years. They could scarf up food faster than you could say "wtf". When The Bastard and the Bastardette grew up and left home, I finally got one meal off a week. Friday night was our "eat out" or "take home" day….strictly because I demanded it.
The Bastard used to say that when he found a woman that could cook breakfast like Mom, he'd marry her. I really don't think it was food on his brain that hooked him though. 😀
The Bastardette wants me to move in with her, and all I have to do is….you got it….cook.
The Bastard Jr. is a great cook in his own right. When he was a toddler he was always right there, me holding him on my hip, checking out what I was happening on the stove. He put his first dinner on the table, all by himself, when he was 8 years old. It was GOOD! We still make a hell of a team in the kitchen and one of the few people I work and play well with there.
This morning I made an omelette. Two eggs, pico de guillo and pepper jack cheese. I ate it alone…..thought about those days past when I cooked those piles of food and was wishing………that you were here to share it with me.