Runaway October

I don’t think that I’m a good cook. Not even a decent one, really. Some­times I get the urge to cook some­thing I find… like this potato soup… and I just get this nag­ging feel­ing in the back of my mind that it’s not gonna be any good.

Mom and Matt always say what I cook is great, good or alright, but they kinda have to say that if they expect me to keep cook­ing. Declan’s taste is so fickle that he doesn’t count. I’m kinda sur­prised that they don’t cringe when I say I’m try­ing some­thing new.

Maybe it’s because I’ve had some colos­sal dis­as­ters in the kitchen or because even things that peo­ple fawn over are just “Meh” to me by the time I’m done cook­ing. And noth­ing ever looks good. I should really work on my food pre­sen­ta­tion skills.

While on the topic of cook­ing and con­fes­sions… I’m hope­lessly addicted to Cook­ing­Blogs. Don’t even get me started on Craft­Blogs. I horde them in my del.icio.us account and get some weird, sweet sat­is­fac­tion when adding them to my Google Reader. Maybe because I wish I could be tal­ented enough to be the pub­lisher of one of these awe­some blogs, but it’s highly unlikely that will ever happen.

Mmmm… we just picked up some awe­some pork tamales from Costco of all places.