Free The Kitchen Counter Cooking School by Kathleen Flinn Page A

anything.”
    Lisa and I looked at each other. We’d tapped something deep. “You know, Donna, earlier you said that you didn’t have an opinion,” I said gently.
    She started to drum her fingers against the door, avoiding our gaze. “Apparently, I do have an opinion.” She banged the door shut. She paused and purposefully slowed her breathing. Then she opened the freezer door.
    Big bags of frozen fried snacks dominated the freezer. Among them was a family-sized bag of Any’tizers, differently shaped and stuffed fried chicken products from Tyson. “Those are my husband’s.” I asked Donna how many they normally eat at once. “Oh, he’ll make half the package for us to eat as a snack after dinner while we watch television.” That’s six servings, or 1,280 calories and 66 grams of fat.
    She moved quickly on to the many bags of frozen vegetables, but they never used them because they didn’t cook with vegetables. “I know that I don’t get enough fruit and vegetables in my diet. I don’t know how to make them taste good.”
    Part of the appeal of frozen vegetables is that they come precut. “My husband makes fun of me when I cut things. Whenever I cook, I screw everything up and then I lose my courage.” Her brother used to tease her if she helped in the kitchen. “He’d say, ‘Oh, you’re not going to cook, are you? You’re going to do it wrong and we’re all going to die.’ It wasn’t actually all that funny.”
    She went quiet for a bit, organizing the elements of the meal she planned to cook. When she spoke, it was almost as if she were simply saying her thoughts aloud. “I think it could be fun to cook. When I watch people cook, I get inspired. When I do it myself, I just get really freaked out. I panic. I don’t want to cook for anyone. I used to lack confidence in everything in my life, and now I think I have confidence about everything else except cooking.”
    For her meal, she decided on “El Paso Casserole,” a menu staple she learned from her mother that featured canned tomato soup, canned turkey chili, canned cream-style corn, and shredded Cheddar cheese. As she used the can opener to open the chili, I noticed her hands shaking. Sweet Donna. This must have been so hard for her, to have not one but two people come into her kitchen, ask nosy questions, and film her while asking about the one thing she felt she didn’t do well.
    â€œHey, I screw things up and I went to culinary school,” I said, approaching her. I gave her a quick hug around the shoulder. “I burned toast this morning. I overcooked a steak the other night. I mean, it happens. Even Julia Child screwed up sauces and dropped potatoes, right on TV.”
    She smiled at me thankfully and offered a polite laugh, but then went quiet as she started to brown a pound of hamburger. I decided to shift the conversation to how she would remodel her kitchen. Her mood lightened. As she topped the layered casserole with Cheddar cheese, she offered some final thoughts.
    â€œI have friends who say, ‘Oh, cooking is so easy, let me show you.’ But to me, it’s so intimidating. My friend comes over, and she’s an amazing cook, she makes it all look so fun. But when she comes over and wants me to cook, I say, Let’s go out. I’m too self-conscious.”
    She thinks some of it stemmed from growing up in a household where cooking was looked on as a chore rather than a rewarding act of creation and sharing. “We go to my in-laws’ house and you can tell that the women in his family love to cook. Everything my mother-in-law makes is wonderful and tastes great. But at my house, my mom and my grandmother, they don’t really cook. Everything is very bland and heavy. Kind of unhealthy and artificial.” She looked down at the dish she had just put together. “Well, just like this