"Failproof"

When I began cooking meals for my husband and I, I constantly tried new recipes. In fact, I still do. My family would most likely prefer me to make the same five meals every week, but I love to explore new foods, ideas, and flavors.  One of the most discouraging words for me to read in a recipe title is, failproof.  The title is trying to set you up with a successful pep talk. You know this recipe is so easy anyone can do it.  No one fails making this bread. This cake is amazing and can't be messed up. So, when the failproof bread or cake fails and is bad, it would make me feel worse. I mean it was literally in the title that you couldn't fail. 

Through the years I have learned to laugh at the failures and embrace the efforts.   I have tried and failed hundreds of recipes in the twenty-one years that I have been married.  I have learned the foods that I already know will fail or "fail" in the eyes of my children.  I have learned that sometimes a meal isn't about them, and it is okay to be about me.

I love vegetables. I love all of the vegetables.  Well, except for celery. I have tried over and over to love celery and I just can't. I'll still put it in the stew or soup, but I don't like it.  My family has created a rule for me that two vegetable side dishes is enough.  If I make three, or heaven forbid four, then dinner is failure.  Sometimes though, I make dinners comprised of four different vegetable sides. I am happy. They are not, and that is okay.

Following pins of very carefully photographed foods on Pinterest can make someone feels as if their version of chicken pot pie is a failure.  It tastes great, but looks bad, you failed.  Except, you didn't. Maybe in the eyes of the flawed social media platforms no one would eat your cooking, but we are living in a real unedited life.  A life where it is fine for food to look less than perfect. A life where failing a recipe, that apparently everyone else in the world doesn't, makes you human. It makes you unique. And it means you are just fine.