My Chef is the BOMB.com
So, I get it, I'm an adult.
I still live at home with my parents, and what?
I mean, they are practically my roommates!
So, at home, the only one that cooks, is my mom. Duh!
The kitchen is kinda like her holy place, where she goes to chill and make masterpieces of meals.
Yeah, I hear you, "You are just saying this because she is my mom". But no, really, I am her worst critic.Growing up, before things were served for dinner or whatever event she was cooking for, I would get a taste and okay it. Like, WTF mom, way to inflate my already huge head.
She like made me feel like I was some type of culinary goddess who would okay her dishes for the public to enjoy.
To this day, I taste my mom's food. Maybe it's more of a bonding thing now, but at least I can say, maybe a bit more salt, or you're missing this or that. Either way, I enjoy it.
Now, back to the part where I talk about my adult-ness.
I work in an office, like the corporate office of a company. We have people who work here from the ages of 28 (ahem I might be the youngest one here, haha) to 78ish. Yeah, huge range. But tell me why the middle-aged ones are the ones that have the most to say about my mom cooking for me.
You think it's jealousy? They even asked me why I don't cook my own meals. Like, why? If Picasso was my bother, you bet your ass he's going to do all my artwork. If Kylie was my sista you know that girl would edit my selfies. So, if my mom whips up something amazing and mouthwatering and she wants to save me some for lunch, how could I say no??!??
Whoever didn't love you or hug you enough, I guess I'm sorry.
But as for me, I will keep praising my amazing mom-chef!
And imma keep bringing her dishes to the potlucks too! haha!
Oh here's a picture of my bowl, I wanted to show you her incredible malanga and cabbage stew, but I ate it all. Sorry, not sorry.
I still live at home with my parents, and what?
I mean, they are practically my roommates!
So, at home, the only one that cooks, is my mom. Duh!
The kitchen is kinda like her holy place, where she goes to chill and make masterpieces of meals.
Yeah, I hear you, "You are just saying this because she is my mom". But no, really, I am her worst critic.Growing up, before things were served for dinner or whatever event she was cooking for, I would get a taste and okay it. Like, WTF mom, way to inflate my already huge head.
She like made me feel like I was some type of culinary goddess who would okay her dishes for the public to enjoy.
To this day, I taste my mom's food. Maybe it's more of a bonding thing now, but at least I can say, maybe a bit more salt, or you're missing this or that. Either way, I enjoy it.
Now, back to the part where I talk about my adult-ness.
I work in an office, like the corporate office of a company. We have people who work here from the ages of 28 (ahem I might be the youngest one here, haha) to 78ish. Yeah, huge range. But tell me why the middle-aged ones are the ones that have the most to say about my mom cooking for me.
You think it's jealousy? They even asked me why I don't cook my own meals. Like, why? If Picasso was my bother, you bet your ass he's going to do all my artwork. If Kylie was my sista you know that girl would edit my selfies. So, if my mom whips up something amazing and mouthwatering and she wants to save me some for lunch, how could I say no??!??
Whoever didn't love you or hug you enough, I guess I'm sorry.
But as for me, I will keep praising my amazing mom-chef!
And imma keep bringing her dishes to the potlucks too! haha!
Oh here's a picture of my bowl, I wanted to show you her incredible malanga and cabbage stew, but I ate it all. Sorry, not sorry.
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