Lazy No More - Me vs. The Wok

You know how it is, growing up with a mom who’s all about that self-reliance life? Mine was determined to make sure I didn’t become one of those lazy bums who can’t even boil an egg without calling for takeout.

From the moment I was old enough to stand on a stool, she had me in that kitchen, preaching about the importance of knowing your way around a cutting board and a frying pan. But let’s be real, as a kid, I was more interested in playing video games than learning how to julienne carrots, you feel me?

So yeah, I gave her a hard time about it. Every chance I got, I’d whine and moan, trying to weasel my way out of her little cooking lessons. Why put in the effort when you can just have everything delivered with a few taps on your phone, right?

Well, my laziness finally pushed her over the edge one morning. I’ll never forget the look on her face as the aroma of fresh coffee filled the air. She marched straight into my room, yanked me out of bed, and dragged me into the kitchen like a woman on a mission.

“Today’s the day you learn how to cook for yourself, young man,” she said, her eyes burning with determination.

And just like that, I was thrown into the deep end of the culinary pool. The task? Whipping up a batch of vegetable schezwan fried rice from scratch. Dicing veggies, handling spices, the whole nine yards.

Naturally, I managed to nick my finger within the first five minutes, but my mom wasn’t having any of my dramatics. She just patched me up and pushed me right back into the fray, like a seasoned drill sergeant.

Not gonna lie, there were a few times when I was this close to just chucking the whole cooking thing and ordering Domino’s instead. Like when I straight-up blanked and forgot to add the soy sauce until the very end, sending me scrambling around like a crackhead looking for his next fix, tossing aside pot holders and rummaging through drawers like a tornado hit the kitchen.

But my mom’s unwavering belief in me kept me going. With each step, each mistake, and each moment of triumph, I could feel that spark of culinary passion igniting within me.

And let me tell you, when I finally plated that fiery schezwan fried rice and saw the pride beaming from my mom’s face, it hit me – she was right all along. Knowing how to cook isn’t just a convenience; it’s a vital life skill, a path to self-sufficiency, and a way to never be at the mercy of delivery apps or subpar meals.

As I dug into that dish, savoring every spicy, flavorful bite, I silently thanked my mom for her stubborn persistence. Because in that moment, I realized that her unwavering belief in me had pushed me to break free from my lazy ways and unlock a whole new world of culinary possibilities.