Dominoe's to the Rescue!!

I have heard that knowledge is not necessarily knowing, but rather, knowing where to find it. I have let that small piece of wisdom carry over into the way I feel about my lack of knowledge when it comes to my cooking expertise. It seems that cooking is just not my forte. However, my justification for this shortcoming is that I do possess the capacity for "knowing" where to find yummy food.

There are two choices: I can have it conveniently delivered to my door or a painless "drive by" pick up---simple as that. In my defense, I did manage to provide my sons with substantive meals, but admittedly my kitchen disasters forced me to pick up the phone to order pizza at times -- fortunately, their favorite meal.

It was a stark realization to me that I should, perhaps, find a way back into the kitchen when the pizza deliverer sent a Christmas card to me several years ago. Back during the days of raising kids, my general suppertime scenario would go a little something like this: I would walk into the kitchen saying to myself, "Okay, here I go -- one step at a time -- there's the oven -- the apron -- the mixer -- now where did I put those beaters? Hmmmm -- .can't find them. Let's order pizza! In the background, I could hear my sons saying, "Yea, we get to have pizza again!"

The conversation with Dominoe's would go a little something like this: "This is Hunter -- again." (a slight pause -- was that laughter?) They would then say, "Large pepperoni, right? Our usual pizza deliverer worked part time at the grocery store, also. I saw him one day in the store and he asked me how my little white dog was doing. I remember feeling a slight urge that I should, perhaps, try putting on that apron once again -- nah -- the urge is over -- maybe later -- .

I tell my friends to never recite recipes to me orally because I can't absorb and process it. I respond in an immature, "singsongy" manner with my fingers stuck in my ears saying, "I'm not listening -- la dee da dee da!" Recipes mean nothing to me because I never follow them accurately anyway. If I get in the middle of a dish and I realize I'm missing an ingredient, I justify it by thinking, "How important could it be anyway?" And I continue making the dish. So, there you have it, the recipe (so to speak) behind all my cooking disasters.

My mother gave me a cake recipe once (not orally, thank goodness, but in the written format that had an ever '"so- slight possibility of actually being followed -- or not?). It was called the Never Fail Pound Cake. She was certain that it would be a guaranteed success, along with a dash of cooking self-confidence for me. However, I failed miserably at my many attempts, although I do believe I invented a new batter consistency that may be of interest to scientists. It was something between rubber and duct tape---sturdy and sticky. I think I'll put it in my car to use as a tire in case of a flat. It could be called a Never Fail Tire.

I am in awe of a friend who loves to cook and of her amazing kitchen creations. She brought a delicious meal to me once that was so divine and I briefly wished for the same skill. (oops -- there it went again -- ) I used a twist from Jack Nicholson's line in As Good As It Gets when I told my friend, "You make me want to be a better cook." When my jokester son was young, he once said, "Don't worry mama, we'll just forage!" (hmm -- he was kidding, right?)

My sons may not have memories of their mom in a starched white apron with yummy pies cooling on the windowsill as the roast cooks simultaneously (can't fathom how you coordinate that, anyway) No, they'll remember their mom emerging through a cloud of smoke as the deafening fire alarms ring while I'm serving a plateful of Never Fail Tires.

So -- after admitting my cooking shortcomings to this audience of readers en masse, I would like to throw another contemplative thought into the pot (pun intended) My sons will remember (and I hope they'll smile when they do) that I may not have been a fabulous chef, but instead I was more like the steady light fixture in the kitchen through all the trials and joys of raising them'"a secure, grounded, fixture with my light on at all times -- as moms do best. I would like to think that it will be a delicious memory---one with the recipe that is perfectly measured with the proper and appropriate ingredients and, more importantly, an aftertaste that will last forever in their memories --