Last night, was a great big EPIC FAIL in the Williams family kitchen. So much so that I insisted my whole family just throw the entire dinner in the bin. I swiftly removed the plates mid mouthful and headed straight for the dog bowl.
A dinner fail in our kitchen is more than just a wasted meal but a whole emotional display of why I hate being such a terrible cook and feeling ill equipped to give my family a healthy nutritious meal every night.
Despite their false looks of enjoyment trying desperately to mussel up the enthusiasm for my lumpy mash potatoes, my under-cooked lamb and my over boiled broccoli. I was no fool, I was the only one being real around the table. After all I too have taste buds that were screaming WARNING WARNING EJECT IMMEDIATELY!
The reason it frustrates me is because it isn’t just the dinner that failed, it’s me.
I have always believed I am a failure in the kitchen regardless of all the successes I’ve had which have been numerous. I still feel like I am culinary disaster.
It’s all because I once burnt my husband’s oesophagus when I made a recipe for peppered sauce and used the quantities designed for 7 guests on just 2 serves. When your husband runs off to vomit mid meal screaming ‘it’s burning, it’s burning”, doesn’t give you much confidence in your cooking abilities or hope to ever make it on Master Chef.
That was in our first year of marriage nearly 20 years ago and it has scarred me for life. My enthusiasm for the kitchen has never returned again.
I could plead my ignorance due to growing up in a home where my mother dominated the kitchen and took control of all the cooking responsibilities. She was such a great cook that I figured I would only ruin her perfection if I got involved.
Needless to say my avoidance didn’t just mean I got out of doing anything. It also meant I got out of learning anything.
By the time I was 21 married, running my own home, and responsible for all meals, all I knew was how to burn toast and burn internal organs.
Last Nights episode has highlighted to me my belief that the one failing that happened 20 years ago has determined in my mind that I am a failure in the kitchen period and that will never change.
I have never considered myself a good cook in the past 20 years regardless of the many encouraging comments from guests and a few tongue in cheek ones from the family.
If I hadn’t spent the last 20 years believing and confessing my culinary failings there is a good chance that I could be a Jamie Oliver right now.
I could blame my husband for his over dramatised reaction to pepper gate but I really only have myself to blame. I am the one that has allowed that one incident determine that I am no Martha Stewart and never will be.
It has also made me question myself as to what other self limiting personal beliefs I have held onto for years that have held me back?
This is a question we should all be asking ourselves:
Do we act, respond or withhold from doing something in particular, because of one bad experience? Have we allowed a low self belief rob us of something we are perfectly capable of achieving?
There is a famous saying that goes “whether you believe you can or you can’t you’re right”.
Our belief determines the outcome.
So today despite last nights epic fail, I will stand tall and confess that I can cook and I will no longer avoid the kitchen and I can make delicious food.