Kitchen Phobia … Really?

Fortunately for me and my family, cooking and practically living within the confines of my kitchen comes naturally. I feel at home there. It is almost like an embrace from my Grandmother and my Father, both long gone. I feel most comfortable there and work on remote control in doing the relatively routine tasks. My late Mother had been adopted and pampered by Mama. She was never allowed to do anything in the kitchen, just keep her Mother company and reap all of the rewards. Thank goodness my Father knew his way around all of the food groups, and his pots and pans. Plus he had a great palate and that magic touch for making everything taste wonderful.

My husband thinks that cooking is a waste of time. He’d rather slap some canned tuna between two slices of bread, grab some chips and then scram. It is left to me to do everything else. He does help with dishes, but that’s about it, in the kitchen. He helps do other tasks about the home, so I am not complaining, just making observations.

There are times I really need him to step up to the plate and help me, and I have to tell you just as with my Mother, a curtain of helplessness would drop over their faces. All of a sudden these intelligent and smart people would crumble. They seemed to grow two left feet and all at once were clumsy. Entering the kitchen would prove to be very hard and while I would lose patience with them, in the back of my mind I wondered if they might suffer from Kitchen Phobia. Is there such a thing?

There are things I avoid, things which I used to do without thought. Now I do my darnedest to stay as far away from them as possible. There are many people who have phobias and wishing it wasn’t so doesn’t help. So now … today, it has dawned on me that perhaps there are people in the world who don’t cook because they actually suffer from Kitchen Phobia. Perhaps my Mother’s not doing very much in this most hallowed of rooms, and my husband saying it is a waste of time, but devouring my cooking, is an avoidance mechanism for them. Could be they were not making excuses to get out of doing work, but rather really felt that shut-down feeling.

I know this feeling. Start talking about how something complex works … like communication equipment, computers, televisions and I shut-down. A veil covers my mind and I close explanations out. My mind tells me I have no need to understand the inner workings of a thing, I simply need to know how to operate it. I wonder if more people out there have these reactions, too. Let me know because I want to understand and I won’t shut you out.


About Theresa H Hall

As a professional vocalist. licensed broadcaster, artist, published poet, lyricist, writer, essayist, critic, animal lover and budding pastr View all posts by Theresa H Hall

3 responses to “Kitchen Phobia … Really?

  • Frank

    Chuckle chuckle.. cute story. Mom was an excellent cook. By the time I could really pay attention to kitchen tasks Mom was working and Dad was cooking. Dad was not the best gourmet cook. He was inventive. What ever did not get eaten yesterday was back on the table in some form the next day in a new form. I remember very very salty pea soup coming back 3 days in a row until it was gone. It was 3 days the 3 kids were glad for sandwiches at lunch and puffed rice at breakfast.. Dad did learn to make pizza from scratch including italian sausage. To this day it is remembered as a treat by my brothers and cousins who ate with us on Fridays.

    Today the inventiveness of Dad’s cooking has rubbed off on my brothers and myself. I enjoy working in the kitchen. Thanks to you I have picked up several new recipes.

    In answer to your question – absolutely there are many things I do not know and do not want to even think about. A few: auto mechanics, stock market analysis, mechanical or civil engineering… Yawn… I am lost and bored after the first words.. Mention artsy stuff and my interests perk up.


  • Melody J Haislip

    I’m fine in the kitchen, having had very good teachers in that arena, but anything automotive? Fuggedaboutit. I’m not a very big person, but I have figured out how to get a tire changed. I simply stand beside my car, looking small, blonde and helpless, till some big strong Y Chromosome type comes along and does the dirty work. I’ve never had it fail.

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