The One Time I Cooked

I don't know how many of you reading this blog know this, but I don't cook. It's not that I "won't" or "can't" necessarily, I just get super angst about it. Husband is a very picky eater so I never really know what he wants to eat and if I do make something it is torture for me wondering if he really likes it or if he's faking it for me. He, on the other hand, actually loves cooking and does it well so it's not a big deal that I don't cook. It's just the way it is and if it ain't broke, don't fix it, right?
When he was in San Diego, I would just make a sandwich or eat mac'n'cheese or something simple during the week because dinner was not that important to me. Then he started living with us full time after Christa was born and he was cooking every night and has been until yesterday. Yesterday, he started working in Moorpark which means he has a longer commute and is getting home later. Last night, I took the bull by the horns and decided if I didn't make dinner, we wouldn't be eating until much later than I am accustomed to. I have no idea what I am doing when it comes to cooking because it isn't strictly measured out like baking is. Baking is where I excel.
I looked in the fridge and saw some chicken thighs just waiting to be cooked. Despite my disgust when it comes to handling raw meat, I took that chicken out of the fridge and put it on a baking sheet. I Googled "How do I bake chicken" and found the directions to heat the oven to 350 degrees and cook it for an hour. Luckily, on that same link, it gave me an idea of how much and what seasonings I should use. I winged it but I did it. Then I got started on a side of Rice-A-Roni (the San Francisco treat!). BOOM! A meal was on its way to being created.
You guys, that chicken came out so nice. The skin was crispy and seasoned perfectly. The meat was moist and cooked thoroughly. The Rice-A-Roni was done just right. Husband inhaled it but I still had that angst that he was just faking it for me because prior to digging in he said he was so hungry he'd be happy to eat our dog, Betty. He assured me repeatedly to the point of annoyance that I done good. And then I proceeded to text all my girlfriends and call my brother to be validated and praised. Ha! Yeah... I feel good about the chicken. I'm just not sure I'm ready to approach beef just yet.

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