Now you're cooking with gas

Ever since I had to fend for myself in this world, I'd say about age 18, I haven't exactly been a dynamo in the kitchen. All through college, I didn't know how to cook a damn thing and I wasn't interested in learning. I got by on Taco Bell, Arby's, Amigo's, Burger King, Subway, Mr. Goodcents, frozen pizzas, hot dogs, Lunchables, deli meat (including the mysteriously monikered Old-Fashioned Loaf), cheese, the occasional apple, orange, and banana, and lots of beer. This may explain why my metabolism and cholesterol levels went berserk shortly after I moved to Austin, but it doesn't explain why it took me so long to get into cooking. Cooking always seemed vague, mysterious, and difficult to me. It seemed to me something that required specific skills, training, and aptitude I lacked, like being an airplane mechanic or a lion tamer. I could make scrambled eggs and grilled ham and cheese sandwiches, but I could do nothing else. Or so I thought. Really, my problem was that I was lazy and ignorant, that I had gone to college strictly to meet girls, drink a lot, and increase my record collection and see live music, that I wasn't interested in learning anything I didn't already know. It would be nice to go back in time, give a little more of a damn, and eat less Arby's, but I guess I have to make up for that (or pay the price) now. A few Christmases ago, I got a salsa maker at my aunt's house at the big Christmas Eve get-together. It had a vegetable chopper, jars, spices, and a recipe book in it. When I got back to Austin, I started making a different salsa every weekend. It was fun, I was gaining kitchen experience, and it was easy. When I quit my job in December, I made a deal with my wife. Since my unemployment was voluntary and since she would have to put up with a drunken lazy ne'er-do-well until I got a new job, I agreed to do the grocery shopping and most of the cooking until I once again joined the workforce. I've discovered something strange about myself since then. I love to cook. I love it a lot. Tonight I made a carrot/habanero soup that took about 2 1/2 hours to prepare. I had to buy a couple of things I've never bought in my life, such as leeks and sweet potatoes. I didn't even know what the fuck a leek looked like. It tasted awesome. I'm really happy about my newfound love for cooking because it means that I'm still capable of surprising myself, which is a nice feeling. If somebody had said to me, even six months ago, that I would be making a carrot/habanero soup, I would have told them they were making a very odd statement. Because that's a weird fucking thing to tell a complete stranger, isn't it? That's just odd.