It’s no secret: I do not like to cook. I hate the dirty residue of oil on the stove, the time it takes after my workday, and how a recipe says one thing but another thing comes out of my oven. I don’t enjoy it, I can afford not to. At least those are all the things I tell myself, as I’m Googling ‘easy recipes’, strategizing my next attempt.
I’ll get no arguments from my boyfriend if I don’t cook. He also doesn’t like cooking, doesn’t expect me to do it, and is the first to offer going out. And yet I’ll go to the store and I’ll buy a package of beef, even if it just sits in the fridge. So there’s something there, I’ll say, just in case I make kotlety, beef cutlets.
I haven’t lived with my grandmother in over a decade, and I don’t need to make kotlety by hand when food is just a click away. But I’ll still feel like I’m playing hooky, even if I make a perfectly good something else.