Okay, so I can’t cook. I was a lousy cook to start with, and being married for God knows how many years has most certainly not improved my cooking skills. Besides, I have a 45 hour job, write for a Dutch newspaper, organize a children’s judo team and run a family with kids, dog, cats and two squirrels - all of which makes cooking a virtual reality only.
But this cooking ‘problem’ was very quickly solved by the acquisition of a housekeeper. She does the cooking, and is quite good at it too.
But now and then, I feel these pangs of remorse, or rather guilt, that I am not a ‘cooking-Mom-kind-of-person’. When Eddie goes and plays over at a friend’s house, and he comes back, he always has these stories on how the mom fed him ‘koussa be mehsje’, or ‘riz ma loubia be zeit’, which are intricate Lebanese platters of high nutritional value. Whenever kids play at my house, it is sandwiches. What’s wrong with sandwiches anyway?
So now and then, these guilt feelings get the better of me, and I get down to business. Today when I got home with Hana, I thought that I should teach her the finer details of cookie baking. I mean, it’s great fun, educational too, she gets to mix the cookie dough, cut them out with the cookie cutter (especially bought for this purpose this morning) put them in the oven, and afterwards she gets to savor home-made cookies. What a terrific educational experience, no?
So I made sand cookies with Hana. They came out quite well. However, after a couple of hours, rigor-mortis set in. I cannot quite figure out what went wrong. For those readers who do not understand Dutch, the ingredients were; flour (350 gr), butter (175 gr), sugar (300 gr) and one egg. So I have no idea what went wrong. Maybe it’s the oven. Yes, that must be it. It’s the oven.
For the REAL THING, click on the TV and have a good laugh. Commentary is in Dutch, but I think you get the gist of it. Don’t forget to turn up the volume; this way you can ‘hear’ the cookies.