Taste of Victory

When I was growing up, my mother refused to teach me and my sisters how to cook. She insisted that if we learned how to cook, particularly at a young age, we would grow up having to serve people and always at the stove. She said that if we focused on studying, we would make enough money one day to hire somebody to cook for us.

I appreciate her attempt at breaking down the notion that women are more than housewives, but I don't think she fully realized that not knowing how to cook for anybody else meant we also wouldn't know how to cook for ourselves. Fast forward to a decade or so later and there we were, not able to afford the chef she imagined us hiring and barely knowing how to boil water. I have often heard people express their surprise -- sometimes outright shock -- at the fact that three twenty-something Dominican women don't know how to cook.

In college, I became addicted to the Food Network, which simplified cooking for me. I got my hands on a few easy cookbooks and gave the recipes a shot. Most of these ended up failing miserably, but it made me more comfortable being in the kitchen. After a few years of doing that, the kitchen is now one of my favorite places. My cooking skills are still not the best, but I love finding recipes, putting all the ingredients together, and getting the instant gratification that comes from cooking a great meal. Baking, although more time consuming, is even more fun. There's nothing like the sweet taste of victory when you finally bite into the dessert you started hours earlier.

I guess you can say my mother's plan might have backfired a bit, but I don't think so. I think she just wanted us to figure out how to do it when we really needed the skill, not when we should have been focusing on our studies. But I certainly hope my sisters figure it out sooner rather than later or we're all doomed come holiday season.