O.K. So when you move, you discover things about yourself, your spouse, and anyone else living in your house. You know - you're digging through clothes, drawers, medicines, and who knows what else as you pack it up to move. Well, the thing that I discovered this evening is that we are fantastic cooks, or at least we appear to anyone looking through our stuff to be. Let me explain why this is a new discovery. You'll recall, I catch things on fire. I mean, when I cook I literally catch things on fire. I have no real desire to cook, nor do I feed my family in the traditional way. But we have a kitchen that is outfitted with all kinds of good cooking things. We have a load of fresh spices, several sets of good knives, and a ton of quality bakeware and pots and pans. While packing up the pantry where we keep extras out in the garage (cans and what not) I discovered that we also had all the good canned ingredients for the bases of many, many recipes - chicken broth, tomatoes of various kinds, all sorts of fruits to add flavor, and a whole host of other things that I have no idea how to use. When I see a can of pears, I open them up and eat them. I don't add them to a recipe. When I see ground up, pasty, or other types of canned tomatoes, I leave them alone (they've not lived a good life thus far but there's nothing more I can do for them).
So I guess that brings me back to the original point - I am not a cook, nor do I profess to be one. But apparently my kitchen speaks volumes to the contrary. While I can't make you dinner (at least not one using any ingredients found in our pantry), I can solve this little mystery for you. My father in law pops in periodically to visit, and he's a good cook. He's been stocking up my kitchen for years now - from utensils to nice pots and pans. So, even those days where I am attempting to burn my water, I am doing so in a decent pan.