I wasn’t even allowed to cook growing up.
My mom is neurotic/borderline OCD, so making a mess or breaking something in the kitchen was absolutely out of the question. Most I could do was make myself a cold sandwich or throw a hot pocket in Chef Mike if I was hungry.
Ironically my mom’s cooking is what inspired me to start cooking on my own. At home I wasn’t even allowed to help out of fear that I might mess something up, but once I moved out I got bored of frozen meals from Trader Joe’s real fast. I decided I needed to take matters into my own hands.
Made a ton of mistakes along the way, but it’s been history since. Now I show up to the holidays and I’m expected to do the majority of the cooking. My mom tacitly acknowledges that I do a good job, but any time I suggest a better way of doing something I immediately get the Mandelbaum treatment: