I never learned to cook. I did Home Economics for a while in school, but generally used the time to doodle the name of my crush in the margins of my books. During my Junior Cert exam, I managed to set a tea towel on fire. The examiner came to investigate, but I blamed some construction work outside, and got away with it. Imagine failing Junior Cert Home Economics? I'd be humiliated. I didn't progress to Leaving Cert level.
It's not that I avoided cooking after that, I just never took an interest. I could make a rasher sandwich, I could scramble some eggs, and I lived with my parents. Why bother?
I moved out at the age of 22, armed with two student cookbooks and a new, hungry, boyfriend I was eager to impress. It was then that I discovered that food could be made more delicious by adding lots of spices, and lots of fats. I became adept at making simple dishes that contained lots of cheese, curries and chili con carne.
Three years later, I'm still not particularly skilled, but I do my best. My kitchen equipment consists of some cheap pots and pans, one decent knife, a chopping board and, my pride and joy, the cast iron griddle pan. This represents the first piece of 'real' cookware I have owned, and using it is a treat (although cleaning it isn't).
I enjoy cooking an awful lot these days, and am determined to get better at it. I don't expect to be rustling up gourmet meals this time next week, but it would be nice to be able to do something more impressive than bangers and mash (though I am quite good at that, and it will most likely feature soon).
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