No, it isn't my birthday. But I was thinking how as we get older we certainly are able to do things that we couldn't when we were younger (and it's not because our parents aren't bossing us around anymore).
For instance, I am now in charge of the "Betty Crocker Club" at my church's women's group. Once a month we each bring a dish related to a theme, like one-pot meals or Mexican, and bring the recipe to share. It's mostly an eating/talking time for me, but some of the people actually like collecting the recipes. To those who knew me in days now past (especially my family) this might make the corner of your lip quiver in a slight smirk. For some, a hearty guffaw might burst forth from your toes.
A recollection comes to mind of me adamantly telling my mom that I KNEW how to cook (I was infuriated that she wasn't going to let me cook the dinner while she was away for some reason), then hurriedly running to the door before she drove away to see whether or not I was supposed to add butter to the pan when frying up ground beef.
Then there was the experimentation stage. I wanted to "spice up" the boring tomato soup I had made for my siblings. I could just feel Julia Child channeling through me. My brother especially likes to remind me that I made them eat the 5-alarm tomato soup before I would give them a drink (sadly, those perfectly honed dictatorial skills of my youth are lost on the peasant uprisings of my children--I cave in way too easily now).
But I think my favorite "creation" (once again channeling Julia) was a casserole made from whipped spaghetti squash (rather stringy) covered with brown sugar, butter, mashed potatoes, and tomato sauce. I'm sure there were probably a few spices thrown in to boot. Oh, the good old college days!
I can assure you that when I show up to events now--and at most evenings at home--I make food to rival anything Rachael Ray or Emeril or any of the other top chefs can concoct. Okay, maybe it's because I'm smart enough to use a cookbook now. But that's the point, right. Older and wiser (and sadly, more gray-haired, but not yet wrinkled--knock on wood.
