Last updated: August 23. 2013 2:52AM - 147 Views

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Facebook friends, donít fail me now.



Iíve seen how many of you are posting recipes of fabulous looking foods on Facebook. I drool with each one and sometimes on the gooey chocolate desserts or Italian dinners, I open the recipe.



Then I remember, I donít cook. And more importantly, I have trouble reading recipes.



Maybe Iím recipe dyslexic. Or maybe Iím just not well-versed in folding or searing or having more than one pot simmering at a time. Perhaps itís any one of those reasons but in the end, cooking just doesnít work for me.



But I have some co-workers who love to try new recipes. They talk to me about them, as though Iím as smart enough to understand. Over the years, they have brought in samples of their food, and offered me some of the recipes to try.



Long story short, my finished product rarely looks like theirs.



They remind me to stick to the recipe, and Iíll not go wrong. Not so, ladies.



They werenít with me when I shopped. A few of the ingredients I couldnít find in the grocery. Truth be told, Iíd never heard of them before, so I swapped out what I didnít know with items I thought might be close.



They were not.



Fast forward to this past Easter.



I volunteered to bring the ham for my family gathering. Iím not sure why I offered that, but everyone agreed and before I knew it, I was pricing pork.



I considered getting the spiral-cut ham, warming it and calling it done. But something inside me said no, this must be more than that.



Enter my cooking friends. They had the perfect recipe, one they take to all family gatherings. So perfect is this ham that requests for it begin months in advance of the holiday.



Interesting. But could I make it?



Knowing my culinary history, my friends considered that question long and hard. One said cautiously, if I stuck to the recipe ó strictly ó I should be able to do it. And, there were only six ingredients, all of which Iíd heard of before.



So early Easter morning, I followed the recipe and put the ham in to bake before heading off to church. A few hours later we came home to a house that smelled delicious. Fingers crossed, the ham would taste even half as good as our house smelled.



I turned on the light in the oven to check. It was beautiful. In fact, it should have been in a magazine as beautiful as that holiday ham looked.



Skipping to the end of the story, the ham was a hit, and I was the rock star cook of Easter. At least in my book.



Sure, everybody else brought great food, but theyíre used to being able to follow recipes. My ham turned out fine. Something I cooked was edible. It was truly a triumphant day.



And the best part? People asked for my recipe. Trust me folks, thatís a first in Kim-world.



I have yet to share that recipe because I sort of want the ham to be my thing ó what Iím known for. If I let that cat out of the bag, everyone will know how easy and inexpensive my main dish was. Yeah, I said main dish. And who made that main dish? This girl.



So now Iím full of confidence. I can read a recipe, the ham proved it. And, I believe Iím ready to move on.



Last week I saw a dessert that looked wonderful on Facebook. I looked at the recipe and thought it was something I could whip up with little effort. My friend Merri asked me if I was really copying a recipe because in the 14 years weíve shared a desk space, sheís never seen that happen.



Yeah, you got it, Iím copying a recipe. And I intend to make it. This weekend.



Iím having friends over, and whatever comes from this effort is what Iím serving them. Hereís hoping itís edible. There is a little candy bar action on top, so I know at least that layer will be good.



Hereís the thing: I know now that I can cook. I have the memory of one good Easter ham telling me I have the talent and the skill.



Iím just hoping my friends out there in Facebook land donít let me down. Itís all on you.


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