I like to cook. I enjoy it very much. However, it wasn’t like that growing up. My mother was a wonderful cook. She worked five days a week for eight hours, took care of four kids and still had time to make food for dinner, something new everyday. And I’m not talking one dish, we always had at least three different dishes during meal time to have with rice. She was also a woman with little patience for newcomers in the kitchen, which is why I never fancied cooking growing up. Every time I would try to get in to help, she’d shoo me away and say, “Get out of my kitchen!”, in Vietnamese of course. My job was to set the table and bring the food out, so that’s what I did. It wasn’t until I was in college that she even let me make a meal for the family. No Vietnamese dishes on my first try, since I was never taught.

When my mom did get a little weaker as her disease progressed, she’d let me in the kitchen more. She shared with me a few recipes that I now hold sacred in my heart. Only if I were able to get them all, she had so many. And each time I cook these recipes, I think of her.

But I digress. As some of you know me, I like to take charge. I have a plan of attack and I set out to accomplish my goals. Same as in the kitchen. I have my recipes lined up, food to prep and I’m off to make a delicious meal. During this course of meal making, my darling hubby asks, “Do you need any help?”, which I quickly respond, “No, that’s okay.” But last night when he asked me, I changed my mind. I said, “Sure, you can make the marinara sauce.” I even prepped the veggies for him and open the cans of crushed tomatoes. Everything was set and ready to go. As the hubby walked into the kitchen to prepare the sauce, my controlling eye waved over me. I couldn’t help it. I was watching his every move and making sure he was doing it correctly. I was hovering, the one thing I dislike people doing to me. I was turning into my mom. My impatience was growing. I wanted to finish the sauce myself but I had to keep reminding myself, “Learn to be patient, learn to be patient.” The hubby did finish the sauce, however, he said it wasn’t a warm welcome in the kitchen. My worst fears have come true, I’ve turned into my mother in the kitchen. This impatient, no-nonsense, little Vietnamese woman, that’s me!

Oh, but the tides are turning. It’s difficult to let go of the reins when you’ve done it so long. There’s a process that I go through, prep, start the meal, clean the dishes, finish cooking, eat. My kitchen triangle is perfected. This Wednesday, I’m turning my kitchen over to the hubby. I’ve picked out a fairly easy recipe for him to follow and made sure he was comfortable with it. I will do my best to stay out of the kitchen, unless my help is needed. Wish me luck! I will report back on Thursday.