I need a cooking crash course. FAST.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m really, really excited about our wedding. In one month, I’ll be Mrs. Gail Dela Cruz-Villanueva. I don’t mind the name change anymore (Marc and I have already decided on what to do with the name dilemma), but it’s the “Mrs.” part that’s worrying me now.

I’m not a great cook. Ok, fine. I can’t cook!

My mom and dad must have spoiled me too much. They enjoyed cooking, while my sister and I just enjoyed eating. The only difference between us is that my sister found the time watching my parents cook and learning in the process, but me? I was holed up in my computer room doing some design thing. I’ve been so caught up with being a geek that I totally forgot that I would eventually need to run a household.

Even as a kid I never wanted to become a housewife—just a housewife. Maybe I was already a feminist at the tender age of four, but I think it was really more on the fact that I never liked doing chores. My mom wasn’t fond of baking, and the recipes she cooked were far too advanced for a kid like me to help with (well, maybe except when we were making pizza—I loved making little figures with the dough). But even back then I didn’t like watching my mom cook and only went back when the food was ready.

I think the only “chore” my mom and dad were able to make me do was washing the dishes. That’s one household chore I’m proud to be really good at. I do manual washing, mind you—we don’t have an automated dishwasher. Well, at least Marc need not be worried about our kitchen sink piling up with dirty dishes. The only problem we have is putting edible food on those goddamn clean dishes.

My dad probably won’t be able to resist me if I come knocking at their door for dinner, but I know that I eventually need to learn to feed my own family. I’ve been trying to learn, you know. Cooking good food runs in the family, so I’m not giving up hope. Well, not yet at least.

The most “complex” recipes I’ve probably pulled off “perfectly” were for spaghetti and Chicken ala King. Marc loves them, but I don’t think we’d be able to live on spaghetti and Chicken ala King alone for the rest of our lives.

I’m not that good at frying either. I usually burn stuff, but I did pull it off properly at one time. I’ve been so proud of myself for frying the Ilocos Empanada perfectly that I took the liberty of taking a few photos:

There’s nothing special about them, but I think this is a good start. Well, for once my frying skills delivered something edible other than the charcoal-like substance I usually come up with. It doesn’t really make me “home-maker extraordinaire,” but somehow it’s still a relief to know that we won’t live on spaghetti and Chicken Ala King alone.

Good thing that my cooking skill (or lack thereof) isn’t the reason why Marc’s marrying me 😛 Heh. So I guess he’ll be spending the first few months of our marriage (years even, depends on how soon I get the hang of this home-maker thing) eating experimental food on very, very clean plates!