I just had an Epiphany. I haven't been able to pin point what my problems were lately. I have been down. I have been sad. I have felt lost. Then it came to me while microwaving the left over chow mien I found in the fridge. I LOVE PRETTY FOOD. I love making pretty food. I love making pretty plates of food. I love making pretty plates of food for my friends and family. I love everything about pretty food. I love making food that looks just like the picture. If it doesn't turn out just like the picture, I am usually really sad and I state in my head that I will do better next time. Usually the food I cook tastes good, I just like it to look picture perfect.

This epiphany comes at a time when I have no kitchen. Don't get me wrong. I have a place to cook meals for my family, but I don't have "kitchen". You know what I am talking about. Like the ones in the movies that sparkle and shine and seem big enough to land your private jet in. I don't have that kind of kitchen. I want one. I want to be able to pop a turkey in one of the ovens and let it roast for its 5 hours and have room to make a 7 tier wedding cake. Is that asking too much? Is it?

I want to decorate cakes with pearls and flowers and I want to make fun monster faces on big cookies.  I want to drizzle salmon perfectly with home made hollandaise sauce and rosemary sprigs, stuffed pork chops with fluffy goodness.  I want to make lasagna so when you serve it, it stays in one piece like in the Olive Garden commercials, perfectly basted ribs.   I want to pour a cup of coffee and add the cream in a way that makes that perfect frothy circle.  This is what I want.  This is what I NEED.

There is only one problem. I have a picky family.  I have a family of boys.  Boys don't understand the meaning of pretty. The husband... well he eats about anything unless it is laced with olives of any color (he isn't prejudice) or mushrooms and he is pretty adamant about not eating anything unless it involves meat. The four year old... well, nothing he does is pretty. No matter what. Everything that comes in a 5 foot radius of him is a hot mess.  He eats anything.  He eats anything in epic quantities.  He reminds me of a little chipmunk that is storing nuts for the winter.  I have to remind him he is in fact a human and not a dinosaur and his bites should be somewhat smaller.   Then there is the six year old.   My perfect child.  My perfect everything.  Perfect in everything but eating... especially pretty food.   His stance is "I don't like it. You know how I know? Because I have never had it.".  He will eat pretty much anything out of box; Kraft Macaroni and Cheese (and he knows his Macs), Chicken Nuggets (preferably dinosaur chickens from Costco, even though since our move to Texas I have convinced him that Texas makes different chickens then Montana), Ball Park hot dogs (I know, right?) and the occasional fast food.  One day he said he wanted Meatballs for dinner.  You can imagine how happy I was that I was finally getting to make him something in my kitchen.  I was so excited.  I got all the stuff out to make meatballs and I got on it.  I formed the balls and added spices with perfection.  I placed them on a baking sheet and placed them in the oven.  I then served them on his plate, in perfect order and he looked at me and asked what they were.  I told him they were meatballs.  He looked as if I had lost my mind.  That was the day I realized meat balls in his mind were actually just browned hamburger.  Who would have thought?

Needless to say, I have quit trying to impress my family with my cooking skills.  I am hoping one day my children come home and want me to make them something on a plate that looks pretty.  In the meantime I will just dream some more about making pretty food on pretty plates in my pretty kitchen.  I can dream, right? 

On a different note; who knew the "Hot Dog" Dance was actually sung by The Might Be Giants?