made with love.

So, I am a Mexican girl.

Do you got that?

No, I wasn't born in Mexico, I was born in Phoenix, but when asked what I am, I always say "Mexican." It's just so much easier that way. If people think I was actually born in Mexico, well, I'm just whatevs about it, cuz really, who gives a damn if I was born here, there, or Estonia? 

(Ok--so maybe Bobby would care if I were born there, but only 'cause he has a thing for Eastern European women. He will say he does not, but he admitted it one day to me and.......

Oh...nevermind.)

So, being Mexican, and coming from a culture that is strongly based around food and family, I was always teased for not knowing how to cook. I mean, I was teased into insecurity when I was like, 18 - come on!  I compare being Mexican to being Italian in terms of women and cooking. They just go hand in stereotypical hand. I was destined for ridicule with my spoiled upbringing of everyone doing everything for me cuz I was the baby. So. Not. My. Fault. Ok? 

Because of the taunting, I carried the insecurity of not knowing how to cook into my marriage. Every meal I prepared was served with a "It's ok if you don't like it," or "I don't think this is gonna be that great..." 

I guess one could say I was nervous/pessimistic/a total spastic freak.

Bobby would shake his head at my unnecessary apologies, and would lovingly eat each bite on his plate. He literally raved about each of my creations with enthusiastic acclaim. He was in love, ok? And I loved him even more for that.

But it seemed like with each step I took forward, I took 4 steps back. I would ruin some stupid custard and think I was destined to serve take-out dinners for my family for the rest of their lives. What kind of mother was I, anyway? How could my children not grow up with a mother that serves them homemade meals every night just as my own mother did? And isn't the way to a man's heart thru his tummy or something obnoxious like that? Nevermind the fact that I had long ago won his heart without any help of the culinary kind. I was desperate. When was this going to get EASY?

Well, it never did. In fact, I'm still nowhere close to being the kind of cook I aspire to be. And I'm certainly not smooth in the kitchen - I get flour all over the counters, have every single measuring cup dirtied or filled with one ingredient or another, and wrappers (chicken, butter, you-name-it) are all over the place. 

So....

I don't cook every night and it's unrealistic for me to do so. That's just not me. But I cook at least 4 times a week, and on the weekends help Bobby with the sides for whatever's cooking on the grill. I get excited when a recipe comes out just right, and probably beat myself up a little too harsh when it doesn't. But I'm learning. And I'm trying.

Plus, I think it would count for something that I know how to make the best Mexican soup around, IMO. Sure, my stepmom gave me the recipe, but you know what? When I make it, it becomes mine. And it's damn good! It may be the only Mexican dish I know how to make, but it seriously is la bomba = the bomb = excellent!

I think every woman comes into her own one way or another with cooking. I just happened to be a late bloomer. And can I just tell you that the man's-heart-thru-tummy thing just might actually be true?! At least it livens it up a bit, makes it beat a little faster---and when he rubs his belly and thanks you for a delicious meal, well, I must admit....the satisfaction of filling up your man feels pretty darn good.

So go grab a new recipe and cook. Tonight. Make it a weekly adventure. I'll be right there with you! Maybe we can swap recipes! 

Enjoye!!