I never liked to cook.

My mother knows it. My siblings know it. My friends know it. And when Scott and I started dating, I made sure to spread the word that he would never enjoy the spoils of a domestic diva.

Diva, I am none.

circa 1988? Thanks Mom.

But dare I say it – the past 12 months I have been coming into my own. I have been experimenting beyond  just guacamole (though I have never been more loyal, mind you) and actually enjoying it. Mom, I did just write that.

Cooking for one person is not enjoyable. And even when I was not just one person, I still didn’t have any interest unless there was a party to put on. I inherited this ability to feed an army, but flounder at feeding a few.

I started a few years ago with baking – making cookies to send to my sister, and then cupcakes for birthdays. It was actually fun. My slight creative streak felt baking was more fulfilling, as cooking was simply for consumption and not aesthetic value.

Last year after I met Scott, I decided to surprise him on Valentine’s Day by showing up in Virginia a day early. In tow, I had a romantic dinner prepared and dutifully packed – stuffed shells. It was the only dish I knew I could make, and I felt this was the time to show him that there was potential in that arena.

After that, I got into food prep and photography. I figured I was willing to make something as long as I could plate it and take pictures. They are laughable, so I have stopped trying to be the next big food photographer because I barely know how to turn my camera on. But either way, it turned out to be fun and so I continued.

But now, in Virginia, Scott and I have developed this mutual affinity for culinary adventure. And tears were brought to my eyes when I was surprised at Christmas as my mother gifted me every aspiring bakers’ dream:

And I gave Scott a breadmaker. So romantic. But you can tell what we are enjoying these days, and it all happens to take place in the kitchen. Which in turn has us really enjoying eating out around town and really exploring the food this city has to offer.

Now I still have to wonder if I am succumbing to the genetic tendency toward culinary prowess that runs in my family, or if I am just shy of 30 and this is what happens to the middle-aged.

Bon appetite, friends.

-Al