There! I finally said it, I do not enjoy cooking at all and I have come to terms with this.
I grew up in a home of six and it was customary that I always spent most of my time in the kitchen as the first born.
The very first time I entered the kitchen to cook, it was by force. My mother removed me from my room desk and told me that it was time for me to learn how to cook because I was growing up and it was customary for growing girls to learn how to cook, I didn’t dispute that. I followed her into the kitchen and I watched her cook. This went on for months till I finally got a hang of cooking, I began to cook alone for the whole family.
One evening, I almost burnt my parent’s room because I was panic-cooking in the kitchen (story for another day please, let’s focus on the topic for today) I do not remember a day in my life between age ten and seventeen that I wasn’t in the kitchen cooking, even when I would visit Benin for the holidays, the kitchen was my home and this was probably one of the reasons why I gained admission into the university and never entered the kitchen unless I wanted to greet someone in there. The hotplate my mother bought for me was intact for two years. I always found a way to have people cook for me or to buy food and to be fair, my mom still had her food shop in Unilag when I was in year one. Who said God is not good?
I had friends that enjoyed cooking in school so food was never a problem for me. I met Stylesenami, Ykbonly and Doyin in 2018 and gave them the impression that I could not cook. For two years, my friends believed I was a kitchen disaster and they were afraid I was going to burn the kitchen down so they never let me cook. I mean, I tried to tell them that I could, even though I was whispering this information but to be sincere, I did try. A for effort.
You see, living alone as an adult made me realize in full glare that cooking is a crazy burden. One morning, during the lockdown, I spent a little over an hour making pancakes, scrambled eggs and sausages; I settled down to eat it and the plate was empty in less than five minutes. I sat on my bed naked with my stomach and face fallen in defeat and I had to come to terms with the fact that this type of life is not for me. How will I stay in the kitchen for hours and wolf down the food within five minutes?
It doesn’t even help that I might inhale the whole food and lose appetite to eat on some days.
As far as I’m concerned now, I only cook for survival and because I have no choice, not because of enjoyment. I still enjoy being cooked for and I still cook for my family when they’re over and for my friends too if I want to make myself feel good (I make a really wicked egusi soup though). So dear blog friends, if I ever invite you over, come with food or we’ll both drink water from my fridge.
WHAT IS YOUR KITCHEN STORY?
DO YOU ENJOY COOKING IN LARGE QUANTITIES?
HOW WELL DO YOU LOVE YOUR KITCHEN?
DID YOU NAME YOUR KITCHEN UTENSILS? NO? ME TOO