In the Kitchen

In the Kitchen

They say that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach (and then, I believe, up through the chest cavity). But Mike did not marry me for my cooking skills. When we got together, I could prepare three meals: Tuna Helper, ramen noodles, and Kraft macaroni and cheese.

Even these I managed to screw up. Too much milk in the mac & cheese would leave it soupy; ramen noodles left on three minutes past their three-minute cook time; and Tuna Helper… well. It’s sad that that was even on my go-to list.

I was not good at producing substanance. If you’re not familiar, substanance is a common Turnerism. They came up with it by combining substance + sustenance. As in, “I’m really hungry; I need some substanance.”

Mike cooked more than I did in the beginning, probably because he couldn’t stomach much more of what I was putting on the table. But eventually I decided that I wanted to improve.

I bought the Better Homes New Cookbook. It’s a classic, the one with a background of a red and white checked tablecloth. It had basic recipes and was a great starting point.

A few friends knew what a disaster I was in the kitchen, so they bought me a bunch of kitchen gadgets. I remember staring at a garlic press with no idea how one might put such a tool to use.

I started experimenting with salads and learned to think beyond iceberg lettuce, tomatoes, and carrots. Through trial and error, I learned the art of making a hearty chowder.

There were so many disasters along the way. I remember trying to make a Sri Lankan noodle dish that a relative always brought to family gatherings. Mike and I each took a bite. It was immediately apparent that the food was inedible. Mike and I both like spicy foods, but I’d ruined the dish by not following a recipe and instead substituting my ignorance of good spice-to-noodle ratios. Mike, eyes tearing, said, “It’s really good,” and choked down a second bite.

My mother never liked cooking, nor was it her strong suit. Which one caused the other is a chicken-versus-egg question.

Incidentally, both my sister and I are now excellent cooks.

Trial & Error x Infinity = Proficiency

I learned to enjoy my time in the kitchen. It’s another creative outlet and, as with anything else, I improved over time.

My repertoire is much more diverse and no longer includes the packaged, processed foods. I can make a killer risotto, tri-tip marinade, lobster ceviche, and vegan enchiladas you’d swear weren’t vegan.

I think back to those early days and I’ll the times I said, “I can’t cook.”

What I meant to say was, “I can’t cook yet.”

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Amanda and Mike launched an Impact Club in their hometown of Boise, Idaho in 2017, and have had a blast gathering like-minded individuals, families, and organizations to make significant impact in our community, raising over $200,000 locally and over $1.5 million nationally.

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Our Story | Mike and Amanda Turner We are Mike and Amanda Turner, founders of “The Business of Us.” We are fierce advocates of helping entrepreneurial couples and families improve their lives, livelihoods, and legacies… READ MORE

My First Sprint

My First Sprint

I was standing near the top of our sloped backyard. This was the first home I remember, on Manor Drive off of Penn Shop Road in Mt. Airy, Maryland. That’s a setting that hasn’t popped into my head in quite some time.

By myself in the backyard, I surveyed the stretch of grass separating me from the house. And I decided that I would run.

Not run like I did when I played tag with my friends. Not run as if my mom was calling me inside for dinner. Those were half-hearted, childlike jogs, sometimes accompanied by laughter.

I wasn’t going to run like that. I was going to run like I meant it.

I have no idea how old I was. Six? Seven?

I have no idea what led to this thought or what turned the thought into action, but for the first time in my life, I ran as hard and fast as I possibly could. I’d never pushed myself to that point. It had never occurred to me to do so.

I was shocked at how fast I could move, how my arms and legs all worked together to propel me to what felt like warp speed. It was the first time I ever sprinted and I still remember what that moment felt like.

When I came to a stop I was wide-eyed and smiling. Who knew that was possible?! I remember looking around the yard and wishing another human had been there to see me, or at least hear me try to express what I was feeling.

As an adult, so often I’m going through the motions. Not out of laziness or apathy or because I’m short on time (I’m always short on time), but because it’s simply not occurring to me that there is another level on which I could be operating.

I’m not saying we should all sprint (Ouch! My hamstring!). Or that life should be traveled at warp speed. If anything, I’m advocating for slowing down, just long enough to consider the possibilities…

Where are we slacking that we might up our game? What are we doing well that we might learn to do phenomenally well?

Honesty is the key here, because telling yourself what you want to hear defeats the purpose.

But if you slow down to give honest consideration to your efforts and the actions they produce, instead of going through the motions of each day, you might find new capabilities and strengths.

You might find yourself in a sprint, moving faster than you ever thought possible.