I don’t know if this is borne out by statistics, but the impression I have is that very few men of my parents’ generation did any cooking and that, in my generation, men who cook regularly at home are still in the minority. It is quite different with young adults. Both my son and my son-in-law are good cooks.
I could not cook before I retired and had no real ambition to learn. My incompetence in the kitchen was encapsulated by an isolated occasion when I had to prepare a meal for our children, when they were aged about 12 and 10 respectively, as my wife was confined to bed with the ‘flu. My attempt to serve baked beans on toast met with ridicule when I omitted to heat the beans. I have never been allowed to forget it.
When I retired, my wife decided that I ought to become more domesticated. In an attempt to induce me to learn to cook, she asked what I would do if she were not around. My immediate response was “Celebrate”. After further persuasion to take the matter seriously, I agreed to attend a beginners’ cookery course, designed for men, at our local adult education centre. This lasted for a term of about 12 weeks and comprised a two-hour lesson each week. The course was run by a pleasant and commendably patient lady who taught us one or two different recipes each week. These included fairly simple dishes such as Shepherd’s Pie, cod in buttered crumbs and Boeuf Bourguignon. I still have her recipes.
As far as I recall, the beginners’ course continued for two more terms and there were also courses at the intermediate and advanced levels. I did not, however, return after the first term. This was largely because, by that time, I had acquired sufficient confidence to cook on my own at home and I had no desire to produce haute cuisine. Confidence is critical. Once I had overcome the fear factor, I realised that following a simple recipe does not take much skill. When I have a problem, I can always seek advice from my wife.
Since learning to cook, I have tried to prepare dinner once a week. OK, I accept that that is not a big deal but it gets me Brownie points and, compared to most of my male friends, I am a paragon of virtue. My wife, of course, is a far better cook than me and is much quicker in the kitchen. I have no intention of usurping her rightful position. But, apart from ingratiating myself with my spouse, there are definite advantages in being able to cook. When I produce a meal, I can be assured that it is one of my favourites, even if it is not as healthy as my wife would like. My children no longer think I’m quite such a hopeless incompetent. And, to come back to my wife’s original point, I am cooking for myself this week whilst she is staying with our daughter who has just had a baby.
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