Zub Tales

I made this.

I cooked up a nice steak dinner.

Lime-Garlic-Pepper seasoned steak and mushrooms, stuffing and a freshly tossed salad with a bottle o’ wine. Rock.

If someone would’ve told me in college that I’d actually be able to cook steak decently some day, I’d have called them a liar. The wonderful simplicity of my mother being at home and raising me meant that I never had to understand things such as how a stove worked, what order food is cooked in or how to season properly, let alone come up with good meal combinations or shop for quality fresh produce. The rude awakening I had when I moved away to Alberta initially degenerated me to a state where I would constantly eat out or just get by on student-worthy garbage at home. It would take quite a while for me to figure out how to cook properly, sometimes with hilarious results.

I’ve steadily gotten better at cooking over the years but rarely have a chance to make up a nice meal. Cooking for one just doesn’t have the same pizazz. I appreciate entertaining guests and want to get even better at it. It’s a hard thing to do, especially with so much work stuff on the go but when I can pull the elements together it’s quite a gratifying experience.

Is it too nerdy-domestic for me to want a killer kitchen when I get my own house? Does wanting to cook all manners of whip ass food mean I have to hand in my macho-male membership card or is the concept of guy-in-the-kitchen actually sexy?