09 December 2010

0 i am not a southern lady

it is a rite of southern womanhood that you must (a) find a man and (b) feed him.

i am not a southern lady, so it is with very mixed feelings that i find myself cooking for a man. not just cooking, but enjoying it.

this is the day for which why mother has been waiting since my birth.

i do not cook for myself. left to my own devices, i drink milk by the gallon and eat raw spinach directly from the bag. because it's just me and that's really all i need. that, and bread. and pasta. and pancakes.

but that is not a meal. it is not cooking. it is the diet of a 15-year-old italian boy.

anyway, cooking has always seemed an elaborate means of unnecessarily putting lives at risk. yes, we must eat, but surely there are safer ways. ways that don't involve the handling of raw meats or the use of knives. and herbs! omg, herbs. one may manage to avoid a bloodbath and retain all one's appendages through the prep stage, only to serve undercooked chicken sauteed in poisonous plants and have all one's diners die.

bay leaves and botulism. there is nothing more frightful in all the world.

i do not like to cook. baking, yes. cooking, no. i try to establish this from the outset in all my relationships, so that there are no surprises. so people realize that as my friend they will be plied with cakes and cookies and breads but never a solid, square meal.

there's this man and i told him all this right away. we sat in a coffee shop and, after he extolled the wonders of what, admittedly, sounded like a glorious guiness stew, i said flatly, i do not cook. i said this so that, on the off-chance that we had any future, from the get-go he could resign himself to the fact that our future would involve copious amounts of take-away.

it's safe to say that when, three weeks later, i made him filet mignon in a red wine reduction, we were both of us equally surprised.

i am not a southern lady. but i am cooking for a man.

i mention this to lindear. she is not a southern lady and yet, as i knew she would, she says, oh honey, bless your heart.

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