Our family identity was set long ago. I’m the one who cooks. Is there a recipe for bringing my family into the kitchen with me?
Back in the day when my husband and I were just defining our relationship, we agreed to conquer household chores together. To keep our relationship equal, we’d both handle garbage detail, money matters, and prepare meals. But something happened and my husband got lost on his way to the kitchen — 15 years ago.
Initially, I managed this inequity with a balance of microwave meals, takeout, and easy recipes I could throw together without fuss or resentment.
Then when my son was born, plans changed. I wanted to set a healthier eating example, so I began burning home-cooked dinners in our kitchen. I felt good about being able to help with healthy eating habits, but I still didn’t enjoy the cooking. I tried. Instead, it became just another stressor. I felt stuck in a joyless room checking off yet another task from my checklist.
Occasionally, my husband would help when I made a big point to ask.
My little guy had the best excuse not to pitch in, though, because for the longest time he couldn’t even reach the countertops. As the years went on, I’d ask for help but their time in the kitchen never lasted long. Other distractions took over, and I was left feeling like a castaway cooking alone on my kitchen island.
Now that my son is 7 years old, I’m thinking learning some simple culinary skills might set the table for a lifetime of kitchen competency.
Plus, I’d like to revisit the original relationship vision my husband and I created — the one where our household felt like a team. So, again I tried to lure my family into our kitchen with guarantees of good times and good meals. But the promise of a little kitchen camaraderie wasn’t enough to keep them there. My feelings of resentment began to grow and I felt isolated once more.
Then a phase of our lives began that would change everything: quarantine.
The onset of a worldwide health crisis inspired us to change the way we viewed the world — and one another. We sought comfort in our daily rituals, so I tried igniting their cooking curiosity once more. Since cooking the normal fare was never of interest to my crew, I tried thinking outside the bread box.
My husband, 7-year-old, and I tried our hands at dessert making. We started by baking cookies.
This turned out to be a delicious idea and my family was up for more. We moved on to some simple cake recipes and it was a sweet endeavor we all loved. Cooking together created a deeper connection we didn’t know we were missing.
These days, I’m not the only chef in my house anymore. And an even bigger win: My son asks to help me in the kitchen without one single reminder. Now, that’s a recipe I can totally stomach.
