Growing up, I had the dream life. I didn’t really have chores and because my mom insisted to do all the baking and cooking by herself, I wasn’t trained in the kitchen. While this worked out great in my childhood, it did not have the same effect in my adulthood.
When I moved in with my first boyfriend, he took over all of the cooking (ie…microwaving) and since we were both newbies at being on our own, we got all the fast food imaginable.
After that, I moved in with my best friend who loved to cook. So much so, she would make me my own dinner if I wanted something different than her.
The first time I was forced to cook was the first day of one of my periods. I called my mom and begged her for a grilled cheese. After 27 years of cooking for me, she had enough. She came to my house armored with all the ingredients I would need to make it my own. In case it wasn’t clear before, I’m still spoiled.
For the next month, I started a pretty serious, committed relationship with the grilled cheese sandwich. My cooking career was focused solely on making them. When I finally mastered the art of the perfect grill, I started adding special ingredients to spice it up: avocados, bell peppers, purple onions. As a vegetarian, I basically added whatever vegetable and spice I had available.
It was time to move again, and this time, I would not be living with roommates but by myself. I didn’t have money to go out and get food every time I wanted it, not with all the beer I had to purchase. So I finally broke down and went grocery shopping, all on my own.
Two of my previous roommates had a pretty nasty breakup and didn’t want to stick around for cleaning out the old place (mental note: don’t live with couples). Luckily for me, I ended up with the Magic Bullet and several pots and pans. I figured this would be the perfect time to learn how to cook.
It’s hard to be a fan of pesto when you’re broke. So, I was forced to make my own. With the magic bullet and a cookbook, I learned how to make it with ease and soon enough, I was making pesto grilled cheeses.
Fast forward a couple years, when I found out I was going to be a mom on a budget. I decided it was time to invest in a real food processor since I would be making a lot of my own food. Then I could make all the pesto my heart would desire.
The only issue, I didn’t know how to use it. I read the instruction manual from front to back cover to figure it out. I was trying to make my boyfriend dinner for when he got home from work but couldn’t make the pesto without his help. He naturally got the processor to work in a little over 30 seconds and the pesto was ready in no time. Whatever.
Recently, I purchased some basil and decided to make some more pesto. It was my personal goal to make that processor my bitch. I followed the instructions and did everything I was supposed to.
Except for putting the blade in.
After removing the ingredients to make sure the blade fit properly, I tried again. Still didn’t work. Several tries later, I felt the tears building up (please remember, I’m pregnant) and verbally threatened the processor to work for me or else it would get thrown out the window.
Taking a break, I came back to where I left off and realized I didn’t have it positioned correctly. So the food processor wasn’t being a dick, it was my fault. I finally got it on right and made my precious pesto by myself…without anyone’s help.
That first bite of pasta has never tasted so sweet.