I Love Food {I Hate Food}

I have a love-hate relationship with food.

You know the battle? I love to eat food. Yummy... Tasteful... Flavorful... I love ingredients that are common but thrown together in such a way which cause your taste buds to dance. I love foreign and exotic flavors from across the globe which add an element of excitement to dinner. I love trying new foods, new recipes, and eating something outside of our normal dinner line up.

But, for the component of supreme dislike: I don't like to prep food. I am not good at taking the time to read the ingredients and follow the directions. I usually end up making a mistake and botch dinner or I change it to the point where it isn't the same and can't recreate the amazing meal. Hey, I'm working on that! But, it probably keeps me from eating all the food all the time! Ha!

The other night I was super excited. I found a cool cookbook at the library and was going to try one of the recipes. It called for wine, an inexpensive cut of beef, some simple ingredients in my cupboard already, and a new veggie I have been trying to fit into dinners lately. It was a win in my book all the way around. I even doubled the sauce, a mistake I thought I learned the week prior with a recipe from the same book. I followed directions, prepped the ingredients, set the crock pot and was good to go!

I loved it. Loved the flavor. Loved how the meat turned out, tender and juicy. I loved the combination of it with the orzo (first time trying that too). Took a bite and I was ecstatic. Looked over at the baby who was happily devouring her food...

See, I have this tendency to cook for the people in my house. I cook to appease the minions. I cook to feed the husband.

This time, I did it. This time I cooked for me.
Love. The. Food.

I look back at the baby who was silently spitting out all her food. The oldest was complaining about the leaves being something you weren't supposed to eat (it was bits of dried basil). My middle was pushing her meat around with her fork and her orzo with her spoon. Husband asked with every bite, "what's this, what's that flavor, what's this flavor".
Hate. The. Food.

We made a meal once and had some people to come over. One of our guests complained about feeling bloated from "eating this junk". That was a few years ago. What we made was from scratch. How could it be junk? It wasn't junk. But it stuck with me. It was enough to discourage me. Maybe there was/is something wrong with my taste buds. Or, maybe my flavor palate is just different.

And now my family was not eating what I had made...  again...

Love the food...

Hate the food...

It's a fine line.

Do I cook to appease the masses? Or do I cook for me?

I think I am just going to start cooking for me. I have a feeling there will always be that love-hate relationship with the food.