Domestic Divas are made not born

I often wonder if the Martha Stewart's of the world were always so kitchen savvy or if they had one on one training from gonache gurus and bundt cake prodigies. You see the truth of the matter is I will always be the girl who brings the jell-o ring to the pitch-ins or the salad bowl to Thanksgiving. I have accepted the fact that not everyone is destined to be a domestic diva. It takes time, patience, and practice. All three of which I don't have. I would love to blame this inconvenient truth on my mother, Cath. You see, my mother is one of those rare culinary creatures who can cook anything and whip up a meal from scanty ingredients in a matter of minutes. She makes the most sinfully sensational two- layer chocolate cake from scratch. I remember watching her as a child as she would mix and blend throwing sugar, eggs, and flour in a bowl without reading a recipe card or following the back of the box verbatim. I asked her once how she knew all of the ingredients were in the right proportions and she took her index finger swirled it in the batter and placed it to her lips....It's perfect she said. My conclusion to my conundrum is that I was never forced to cook because my mom was so stinkin' good I never needed to learn.

Thus, this brings us to the education and domestification of a die hard diva. I have concluded that the only way to approach diva-dom is to put a little effort in and recognize my strong suits. So I have reflected about the things I do really well. I make a mean beater, egg-beater that is. I can shake the box of golden wonder, pour, and solidify with the best of them. I also can make yogurt parfaits that are as beautiful to the eye as they are nutritious to the soul. Oatmeal now this is an art, one of fortes. I can do things with oatmeal you've never dreamed of. I don't use those soggy flakes from a packet, but the old-fashioned (a smidge like myself) cook em on the stove oats. You can throw anything in it berries, raisins, nuts, chocolate, and of course my favorite peanut butter. Yep, that is about all I am good at unless you count boiling water or using Ziploc steam bags as an art. Therefore, I am left with lots of room for improvement.

My plan is to pick one realm of culinary creativity and go with it. I encourage those out there who are also domestically challenged to do the same. My genre of choice is soups. I love soups there is something about that warm goodness as it slides down my esophagus to swim in my stomach that makes my soul smile. I am going to breakthrough my domestic diva depression and discover that I gotz mad slicing and dicing skills up my sleeves. Chunky soups to purees from colors of red to green, I am going to be the queen.

Ok I tend to believe in the power of positive thinking and even this my friends my be a bit of a stretch for me. Yet, I still am going to try to put my creativity to the test. While I am probably going to strike out 95% of the time, there is the hope that the remainder of the 5% will be extraordinary. Thus, grab a glass of wine, throw on your most figure flattering apron, and get to work because if you can't conquer diva-dom at least you can look like you play the part. And let's be honest if you should fail remind yourself of an important question, who else would bring the jell-o ring to your next party?