Some Thoughts on the Magical Arts

Amusing bumper sticker of the day: “Make Him Beg!”

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If you are searching for one more useless than you in the kitchen, you need look no farther than me.

I rarely venture into the kitchen, save for finding something to drink from teh refrigerator, and when I do, I feel as though I am adrift and lost in a hostile and threatening land.

I can not cook. Anything. At all. I can’t prepare macaroni and cheese. To me, cooking is akin to sorcery–strange rituals are performed over fire, using many bizarre ingredients unrecognizable by me, and the result, magically, is food.

I don’t know what lies in our kitchen, and I don’t care to. I can often not even recognize objects of food before they are prepared, and I am mystified by their application. All my friends know better than to ask me if we have this or that ingredient on hand; in fact, most of my friends have a far better knowledge of the contents of our refrigerator and our pantry than do I. My incompetence in the kitchen is widely known and talked about–the stuff of legends and myths.

Fortunately, I have a Sicilian wife who loves to cook, and takes great pleasure in her skill at the culinary arts. Were that not so, I would eat nothing save for what is offered on the menu at McDonald’s.

I wonder, is that a vice?