As a fresh-faced house spouse that's a 41 year old man, I'm a bit of a contradiction. And I'm okay with that. People don't understand my role in my family and in society and usually give a look of confusion when I answer the "what do you do" question. But to be honest, sometimes I don't understand my role either.
You see, as a house spouse, or housespouse if you prefer, I am fighting decades, centuries, and maybe even millennia of tradition where the "man" is the provider and the "woman" is the house keeper. So giving me a confused look is totally okay. But I challenge your preconceived notion about me because I still feel as though I "provide" for my family, just in other ways.
One of the ways I provide is by cooking. And I have a long and checkered past with cooking. Once upon a time, back in the olden days when television was on low-definition and cassingles were easily found, my ability to cook was limited to the simple things. A bowl of cereal. A sandwich with cheese and mayo. A box of macaroni was about as complex as I got.
As I grew older, I expanded my cooking abilities by learning how to make hot cereal, adding ham to my sandwiches, and, when I wanted to live on the edge, put tuna in my mac and cheese. But now that I'm a house spouse and YouTube creator, I'm delving deep into cooking. Deeper than I ever expected to go. And I have the women in my life to thank for it.
My wife was, and probably still is, extremely cautious about my cooking. While she seems happy to teach me how to cook certain things, she doesn't like it when I don't follow the recipe. Or when I DON'T. FOLLOW. THE. RECIPE.
I have my reasons for changing things, namely that when I cook, I try to put things in that I like but also know that the kids might like. And sometimes I just want a change on that recipe that's been used and reused so many times we're all a little tired of it. But another big reason is food allergies. My kids and myself are allergic to a few things and adding or removing or otherwise modifying a recipe is pretty normal. Prime example is most cookie and cake recipes from my grandmothers include nuts of some type. That's a big no-go in our house.
But back to the recipes. According to the Washington Post, they might be "dead." And I can sort of see their point. With Generations Y and Z, apps are the shiznit. Apps are so hip, that my daily crossword will use "APP" as the answer to clues talking about computer programs. Meanwhile, I still try to make "SOFTWARE" fit into three squares. Apps are so commonplace, they can do just about everything for you. And as the article suggests, cooking is one of those things.
Despite all of these things swirling around in the vortex of today and the future of cooking, I'm not sure I agree with the idea that recipes are dead. And as I sit here and think of ways to convince you that I'm right, the only thing I can do is prove that recipes will become more of an "artisan" thing. Like blacksmithing and glassblowing, using recipes will not die, only become more of a niche market for artists.
That makes me sad. As much as I want to preserve history, especially my family's history, I can see how cooking will become an art (I mean, it already is but you know what I mean) reserved for special meals and everyday cooking will be relegated to bots, apps, and maybe even food replicators.
So where does that leave me as a housespouse trying to learn how to cook? It leaves me in debt to those women who came before me and who are with me now. My grandmothers, their mothers, my parents, my wife, all of them have worked so hard at the hearth, the oven, the cooktop, to ensure I was fed and wouldn't go hungry. I can only hope my children can do the same for their kids.
You see, as a house spouse, or housespouse if you prefer, I am fighting decades, centuries, and maybe even millennia of tradition where the "man" is the provider and the "woman" is the house keeper. So giving me a confused look is totally okay. But I challenge your preconceived notion about me because I still feel as though I "provide" for my family, just in other ways.
One of the ways I provide is by cooking. And I have a long and checkered past with cooking. Once upon a time, back in the olden days when television was on low-definition and cassingles were easily found, my ability to cook was limited to the simple things. A bowl of cereal. A sandwich with cheese and mayo. A box of macaroni was about as complex as I got.
As I grew older, I expanded my cooking abilities by learning how to make hot cereal, adding ham to my sandwiches, and, when I wanted to live on the edge, put tuna in my mac and cheese. But now that I'm a house spouse and YouTube creator, I'm delving deep into cooking. Deeper than I ever expected to go. And I have the women in my life to thank for it.
My wife was, and probably still is, extremely cautious about my cooking. While she seems happy to teach me how to cook certain things, she doesn't like it when I don't follow the recipe. Or when I DON'T. FOLLOW. THE. RECIPE.
I have my reasons for changing things, namely that when I cook, I try to put things in that I like but also know that the kids might like. And sometimes I just want a change on that recipe that's been used and reused so many times we're all a little tired of it. But another big reason is food allergies. My kids and myself are allergic to a few things and adding or removing or otherwise modifying a recipe is pretty normal. Prime example is most cookie and cake recipes from my grandmothers include nuts of some type. That's a big no-go in our house.
But back to the recipes. According to the Washington Post, they might be "dead." And I can sort of see their point. With Generations Y and Z, apps are the shiznit. Apps are so hip, that my daily crossword will use "APP" as the answer to clues talking about computer programs. Meanwhile, I still try to make "SOFTWARE" fit into three squares. Apps are so commonplace, they can do just about everything for you. And as the article suggests, cooking is one of those things.
Despite all of these things swirling around in the vortex of today and the future of cooking, I'm not sure I agree with the idea that recipes are dead. And as I sit here and think of ways to convince you that I'm right, the only thing I can do is prove that recipes will become more of an "artisan" thing. Like blacksmithing and glassblowing, using recipes will not die, only become more of a niche market for artists.
That makes me sad. As much as I want to preserve history, especially my family's history, I can see how cooking will become an art (I mean, it already is but you know what I mean) reserved for special meals and everyday cooking will be relegated to bots, apps, and maybe even food replicators.
So where does that leave me as a housespouse trying to learn how to cook? It leaves me in debt to those women who came before me and who are with me now. My grandmothers, their mothers, my parents, my wife, all of them have worked so hard at the hearth, the oven, the cooktop, to ensure I was fed and wouldn't go hungry. I can only hope my children can do the same for their kids.
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