When I was single, one of the ways I would impress guys was via their stomach. I'm not sure why, but men seemed to be impressed by my cooking skils. Never mind that I never actually cooked for them. Foolish mortals. I used my knowledge of Clint Eastwood movies and cars as ice breakers. Somewhere in the conversation I would would mention that I love to cook and proceed to describe some culinary delight. If he was a Vegan, I would mention something from Juliano's Raw, The UnCook Book. If he had a sweet tooth I would casually throw in something from The Cake Doctor's book. My trump card however, was the copy of 1000 Jewish Recipes given to me by Mom. Home cooked food at it's finest. All this stuff is stored in my head because I read
cook books the way teenage girls read the Twilight books. I have quite the collection of them, most of which I've read back to back.
I suppose the knowledge isn't completely useless. I'm a good cook with tons of receipes just sitting there, waiting to be used. Ironically, my husband will not try the majority of them.
1 comment:
Your book looks wonderful. Just the wisdom would be worth it.
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