My kids will tell you that I'm a pretty good cook -- pretty much because we really haven't been to many fancy-schmancy restaurants...as a family...like, as in all together...sitting at the same table...at the same time.
So, they just don't know any better...YET!
Until their grandmother got them hooked on cooking shows. Okay, I lied.
"Hi, my name is Liz and I am hooked on cooking shows."
I grew up watching masters like Julia Child (gosh, but I miss her!) and The Galloping Gourmet (what a whack-job HE was, eh?) and even today pretend I have my very own cooking show.
Oh, come ON...like you never pretended you had your very own cooking show...EVER...right?!?
[sound of crickets chirping]
Aaaaaanyway, where was I going with this?
[blows bangs out of eyes, stares at toaster]
So, yeah, I know my way around a kitchen (sort of) and I've been preparing Sunday dinners since I was in single digits and...YES!...contrary to what my children would have you believe...we had electricity AND running water, back in those days, too.
"You and Mama should open a restaurant!"
All economic and logistic (mostly economic) arguments aside, my youngest has watched way too much Restaurant Impossible.
[taking a moment to reflect on those guns that Anthony Irvine calls arms...sigh]
Besides, I love cooking for my family.
"What, you don't like tonight's dinner?"
Appeasing the picky palates of strangers, not so much.
"There's some peanut butter in the cabinet...GO FOR IT!"
So, this is what it would look like, if I were the host:
I know, I know. Just having a little fun wit-it, but I actually am planning on cooking up some Porkolt tonight -- once the meat defrosts and the bra comes off, of course!
Post-video notes: liking the eye-baggage...eh?...had a wicked sinus headache last night and I just noticed nobody bothered to replace the empty paper towel-holder thingy...again...DAMMIT!
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