One of the effects of feminism is that men of my generation have had a much wider opportunity to cook. I can’t think of any men my age or younger who don’t know how to cook. Moreover, I can’t think of any men of my generation or younger who don’t enjoy cooking. This is in stark contrast to the women of the same generations, who (typically) view cooking as an indignity. The reason for the difference in attitude boils down to what cooking is all about. Cooking is an act of love, an act of service to others. It is an opportunity to care for others in a very fundamental way, to literally nourish them through the work of your own hands. This is precisely what troubles the modern woman so much about cooking (or cleaning, or changing diapers). Serving others in the mind of a feminist is an indignity, so cooking, cleaning, or any other act of service and love is the object of revulsion.Here's a little history of Dave: I learned to cook at age 12. My first job was in a restaurant. I got the Ragin' Mrs (who is a CHEF) to start dating me by cooking her dinners for a week straight. And if the crap hit the fan, I could make sure my family ate. If I had to start all over from the bottom again, I could always find work cooking.
I know more than just mac and cheese. I can cure my own bacon. Cure my own hams. Make my own sausage. Make my own bread. I can smoke meats, bake, saute and stir up a mean red pasta sauce.
This made me very, very popular in the military. Take a platoon of guys who have had nothing but chow-hall food for months, and cook up a batch of jambalaya... you've got friends for life.
One of the ways the Ragin' Mrs and I show appreciation for each other is cooking for each other. We cook for our friends. We cook for our family. And it is always appreciated.
If you have kids, teach them how to cook. Period.