I can't cook. I don't even pretend like I can. I think if I explore back enough, it can be attributed to my grandmother. When her sister was a toddler, she was in the kitchen and dropped a pot full of boiling water on herself and died. This was something that obviously affected that generation and the tradition has passed down. My grandmother, not born yet, was raised by grief stricken parents who did not allow her in the kitchen as a child. She then raised her children the same way, who, at least for my mother, passed down the tradition. I always hear about how the kitchen is the main place for families, where all the memories are made and traditions are passed down. Not in our family. No one has any business in there unless they are cooking. My mother, a wonderful cook, didn't learn how to until she got married.
So here I am, unmarried and still unable to cook. But, I can stir fry! I think figuring out how to stir fry has lead to my survival. And when I say figure out, I mean it. At this point, I am pretty comfortable stir frying, and have even added some new veggies to the mix. This ability has only come with years of setting off the fire alarm.
I think I will someday set out and learn how to make some other things. Some day, I may even venture to use the oven.
