Too many cooks

Now that everyone has fallen in love with my boyfriend, I’m going to complain about him. That’s what girlfriends do, right?

I had this conversation with a friend yesterday:


Today another friend said I must save a ton on eating out since Bogart’s a chef. I may have overused caps in my response, but only because she’s the 37th person to say something to that effect. I can’t fault them, when I first discovered he made a living in a kitchen, I had dreams of lazing around while he whipped up something magical to delight my tastebuds:

Him cooking, me drinking. Perfection.
Him cooking, me drinking. Perfection.

That. Did. Not. Happen.

Let me be the first to burst this bubble for you: People who spend 10+ hours cooking for other people most days don’t want to do it when they’re at home. Shocking, since I know when I’m not working, I want to do that exact same thing during my time off. Don’t get me wrong, Bogart has cooked for me. Once. At his restaurant. When I went in with a friend.

We have cooked together, when I vetoed takeout again. Fun fact: If you give me a fancy-ass knife, I am going to want to use it. And I’m going to make you cook with me so I can steal all your skills/have someone on hand to call 911 when I cut myself with said fancy very very sharp knife. I also really, really wanted to learn how to make an omelette since all my previous attempts resulted in frustration-laced scrambled eggs. The omelette was delicious and didn’t even have a hint of frustration (although the very slow hash browns may have had a side of hunger-driven impatience).

I like to plan things, and that includes meals. I enjoy finding new recipes, shopping, and the eventual cooking/eating experience. Maybe it’s because I’m new to this whole cooking thing, but these are things I like. So while I know takeout is easier (and his go-to, and admittedly delicious), it’s important that I cook, especially for someone I care about. That just means that he has to eat my hippie bullshit, which he’s been amenable to thus far. Plus, if I cook with him around I’m bound to learn things (like when my horrible chopping skills result in a gentle, ‘Can I show you something?’ or actually using salt during the cooking process).

I’m also kind of picky, whereas he’s extremely easygoing (can I complain about the lack of things to complain about … seriously, have some fucking flaws, dude), so it works out a lot better if I have control over the kitchen I make us delicious meals. That being said, I don’t want to cook all the time, and having someone with an inside scoop on the Toronto restaurant scene isn’t such a bad thing either.


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