I am an efficient but unspectacular cook. I have a sense of how long to sear a New York strip steak before putting it in the oven, and on a recent, unseasonably cool August evening, I capably executed a pot roast dinner that furnished leftovers for days. Undoubtedly, my skills are improving, but even if they improve markedly, I will never, ever, not even in jest, answer to the call of “Chef.”