Making Fuel with Fire

In order to train, we need to eat. In order to eat, sometimes we need to cook.

Though my last name may mean Cook in German, It couldn't be further from my culinary abilities.

To say it simply, I can't cook.

When I left for college, I could make one hot meal. Kraft Mac & Cheese. This meal, though low in nutritional value, was a staple in my diet for years.

My friends and family seemed to think that once I was out on my own I would learn to cook. That didn't happen. I had a college roommate who loved cooking and hated cleaning. We made a deal. And with that deal, I was never hungry. That is, until he graduated.

I graduated and moved back in with my parents. My mom cooked some evenings. Other evenings we went out.

Then I moved out. On my own. Maybe then I'd finally venture into cooking. In the last six or so years, I have tried my hand at a few things - lasagna, dips for parties, lemon chicken. But never caught the cooking bug.

Then Dave moved in. Not only is Dave good at cooking, but he finds it relaxing. He makes dishes without measurements or recipes. He says he enjoys 'winging it.' Whereas i prefer the timetables and precise measurements of baking.

While I was taking wood shop and drafting in high school, Dave was taking foods class. I think this explains a lot.

So it was to great surprise that I came home from work last week and decided to make dinner. Now let's use the dinner term loosely here. I thought of pizza bagels. So I asked Siri (cause as you can now tell, I need help) and together, we made something that looked edible.

Maybe there is hope. Though I'm not ready just yet to say 2013 will be the year of cooking.