Cooking for ____

My pallet gets bored pretty quickly.  I can't eat the same thing over and over again because I get sick of it, and then I'll never eat it again*.  By the time I had my own apartment and started cooking for myself, I knew enough about my tastes to know I had to try new things or I would never eat.  And since I get cranky when I don't eat, my options were to either eat out a lot, or learn to cook.  I chose the latter as the long term plan.  And you would think that most guys want a girl who cooks.

My ex however was a childish picky eater, and cooking for him was a nightmare.  Not only did he want the same boring thing over and over, I had to alter every recipe I had so as not to offend him, and nothing he cooked had any taste.  Once, just once, I baked boneless, skinless chicken breast in cream of mushroom soup, and he was so grossed out he flicked the tiny bits of mushroom off the chicken and at me.  Yeah.  He flicked the dinner that I made for us at me.  Instead of being offended at the time, I thought to myself, oh, I messed up.  And then I found my dignity again and said fuck this.

So, when I left him I cackled with glee at the thought of being able to cook however and whatever the hell I wanted.  My cookbooks would finally get their day in the sun!  But I also moved back home to my parent's house, where my mom does all the cooking.  And that was AWESOME, because I got to go to school and work and have a social life and didn't have to worry about not eating.

When I moved to Charlotte, I promptly conquered the kitchen as my domain and took over most things food related.  Now my cookbooks have their day in the sun, and I have tried more recipes in the past 4 months than I ever have had in my years of cooking.  I'm loving this new found cooking freedom that I have.  Not that everything I make is ridiculously tasty and delicious, but I'm trying.  What's even better, is that dr soc tries whatever I make without asking what's in it, sometimes goes back for seconds, and cleans the kitchen after dinner.  No childish pallet, no flicking of food, and he appreciates that I cook in general, the trying new recipes and tells me so. 

Yeah. When I say I upgraded, I really did.  My life's good.

* To this day I can't eat a stuffed pasta shell or those handi-snack cheese and cracker packets.  Even the thought of them here makes me gag a little.