My mother and grandmother were wonderful cooks. I know how my grandmother made most things from scratch and know the recipes that her mother taught her. Does this mean I go out of my way to do it? No.
I have four small children at home. Three of which are starving to death 24/7. There's nothing that will make them stop. Perfect example: Izy ate four plates of pasta yesterday for dinner. Four! Why? Because she liked it. She actually requested a fifth plate, but we cut her off at four. Five may have just tipped her over the scales of "full" to "vomiting."
I'm fine with making stuff from the store. I will not touch raw meat. It's icky. If I didn't become a complete and utter crazy bitch when I don't eat red meat, I'd cut it out of our diets altogether. Unfortunately for us, and our pocketbooks, that is not the case. Though, luckily, we all love chicken with a passion. (And I've always hated birds anyway.)
Well, I made spaghetti today. The boiling of water makes me want to rip my ears off though, because I can hear those little bubbles of water vapor, well, bubbling but not enough to put the damn noodles in. It's annoying, not to mention my husband got more water to put in and threw ice cold water in it... Why? Because that stupid Wives Tale that says you shouldn't. Pft, use hot water damn it, we don't have lead pipes here!
In any case, it wasn't good, but it wasn't bad either. I managed to spill noodles all over the floor before putting them in the water--and no, not the same ones!--and then really pissed off Hubby when he got frustrated for not listening and just letting me do it myself. It wasn't bad spaghetti, but it could have used more sauce and meat but I wasn't going to run out to the store to get either, so I don't think it was too terribly bad.
The kids ate a little bit of it at least... Okay, well, most of it is still on the floor and has to be scraped off the table, but still.
Maybe I'll just leave the cooking to my husband...