rivettingKateTaylor

Unlike her mother, my eight-year-old Sarah has decided she likes to cook.

Our household differs from most others in the country, particularly in rural NZ, in that the man does all the cooking. Now I’m not talking once a week so I can have a night off – Thomas really does do all the cooking. I might have to throw together an omelet or a spaghetti cheese toastie when required, but Thomas is in charge of the kitchen. He’s rummaging around in the freezer for something for tea almost before he’s swallowed his breakfast.

Admittedly, I do enjoy cooking when there’s a glass of wine involved (bit of chardonnay while stirring a stirfry or cab sav with mince for a spag bol). And I am very good at dishes. And I can cook (even if my potatoes are ready an hour before the meat). I know this because I flatted for 10 years before finding my husband/cook/business manager. I would just rather not.

I blame my mother (with a smile), my three older sisters and my love of reading. Apparently Mum says as a youngster if there was work to be done then I was no where to be found and with my listening skills firmly tucked in the back of whatever book my nose was poked into at the time. She already had three daughters who’d been taught to cook and clean, so I got left to my own devices.

Sarah loves it. She comes to me before Dad gets home to ask if she can peel the potatoes. She washes them, cuts them up and puts them in the pot ready for cooking. She peels the carrots, gets the frozen beans out of the freezer, stirs the gravy…. and Thomas supervises the placing of the meat on the barbecue.

The BBQ is something else that makes us unique. We (by that I mean Thomas) cook outside five nights out of seven. The best $200 I ever spent was sending Thomas on a gourmet BBQ course with Raymond van Rijk in Havelock North  (plus $600 for the new BBQ!) Now instead of a good roast pork in the oven he cooks a fantastically delicious roast pork on the barbie. Mmmmmm.