In which the Clam discusses her (hopefully diminishing) domestic ineptitude
Kasia July 20th, 2008
You may or may not know this, but I don’t really know how to cook.
I mean, I sort of do. I know how the stove and the oven work (though the microwave is a more commonly used appliance at Chez Kasia). I understand the rudiments of cooking. But if cooking is an art, then I am a philistine.
It’s not entirely my fault. My mother was an ardent feminist who thought cooking, cleaning and housework were drudgery. So teaching her daughters how to keep house was not high on her priority list. And sure - shared housework is a good thing, and most couples I know do share housework to some degree or another. But one still needs to know how to DO it!
My dad did most of the cooking and quite a lot of the cleaning, but he was also supporting us, and was consequently way too busy to teach me much about what he was doing. And I was too busy having tantrums and refusing to clean my room to care. 
(I was a difficult child. I really hope any children Canuck and I have take after him.)
My only memory of doing anything in the kitchen before age 10 or so, apart from loading or unloading the dishwasher, was fluting the edges of pierogi with a fork as my grandmother made them. I don’t doubt that she would have taught me more about cooking as I got older, but unfortunately, she died when I was 8.
When I was 10, my parents divorced. My poor dad was running himself ragged trying to support us and keep us halfway sane. TBS was helping him. But the house was a madhouse and we were all hanging on by the skin of our teeth. At that point, my level of expertise graduated to making my own lunch: a sandwich, a drink box/Capri Sun sort of thing, and some sort of Hostess dessert. (The Hostess was a HUGE deal - my mother NEVER let us have junk food. Come to think of it, the Capri Sun was a big deal too…)
I started doing my own laundry in sixth or seventh grade, because my dad’s rule was that it all had to be downstairs, turned, pockets checked, zipped and snapped, on Saturday morning so he could do all our laundry. A very reasonable rule. But I could never get it together enough to have it done at a reasonable time Saturday morning, so finally I asked someone to teach me to use the washer and dryer.
Around that time, I learned to make pancakes. And at some point in high school, my stepmother taught me to make “monkey bread” (YUM). Along the way, she taught me by way of correction, a fair bit more about housework than I had known before.
But really, I still hadn’t learned to cook. And when I was 23, I flew off to England for a semester. No dormitory cafeteria - a common kitchen. I was going to live off my own cooking for six months.
TBS, being possessed of great foresight, anticipated the problem and started teaching me to cook some basic things: hard-boiled eggs, rice, banana bread, Greek chicken. After my arrival in Britain, a couple of Czech housemates of mine taught me some additional lessons. Like Czech pancakes (which are basically crepes), and that outside of the U.S. and Canada, throwing away food is simply not done. (Quite a culture shock!)
I made it through that experience with a little bit of TBS-taught cookery, a little bit of Czech help, and probably more prepared foods than I ought to have eaten (I was especially fond of a garlic-butter baguette that Tesco sold). Oh - and with some care packages from home, including my dearly-beloved grape jelly (which I couldn’t find anywhere over there) and some boxes of Velveeta shells and cheese. You should’ve seen the one Czech girl’s face when she saw me making it…but I convinced her to try it and she marveled at how good it was…
All this to say: my domestic skills were, and to a great extent still are sorely lacking. (I scrubbed my first floor, with the help and instruction of TBS, at age 25.) I’ve improved, it must be said, thanks to FlyLady, Saving Dinner, TBS, the Canuck, my parents (even my mother, who for my 30th birthday gave me a copy of Cooking Basics for Dummies with the phrase “Girls Whose Mothers Neglected Them” P-Touched over the word “dummies”), and countless friends. But I’ve got a looong way to go before I’m up to my age standard.
So you can see why I’m excited that I had a little domestic breakthrough today.
Inspired by Jennie C., I decided that I was not going to make my this-week’s grocery run be another hot-dog-and-frozen-dinner-fest. No - I picked out three recipes and made a list based on them. The first recipe was from Saving Dinner. The second recipe was from a cookbook TBS gave me as an early wedding gift, called Quick, Thrifty Cooking. The third recipe was Jennie’s sausage & pepper sandwich recipe. And I figured out a few other things I needed, like milk and bread.
Well. I went to Kroger. And do you know, not only did I follow my list (though I did pick up a couple of things that weren’t on it because they were on sale and I wanted to stock up), and watch sales, but I mentally shifted gears several times, initially scratching off one recipe because I thought it wasn’t going to be affordable, but then going back, recalculating, and deciding to do it after all.
It was possibly the most enjoyable grocery shopping trip I’ve ever done. And not a hot dog or frozen dinner in the cart. (Not even a frozen lasagna!)
THEN, after I got home and unloaded everything, I debated whether I ought to heat up my last remaining frozen dinner - after all, it was 80 degrees out, my air conditioning doesn’t work, and I live on the second floor - or whether I should suck it up and COOK.
I cooked.
I used the stove. I used the oven. I used three pans and a casserole dish, baby! AND IT TASTED GOOOOOOOOD!!!
(I even washed a load of dishes after. I had to take a shower when all was said and done because it was so stinkin’ hot, BUT I DID IT!!!)
And now, the challenge becomes doing it again tomorrow. Or the next day, if my leftovers carry me through… 
