“I did not plan to learn to cook; in fact I planned to avoid it.”
I like to eat, but what I really love to do is cook. Almost every day reflexively, compulsively, not thinking that much about it I put things together for people to eat. Not osso bucco or Peking duck, but soup, rice, eggs, some vegetables … dinner. Improvising with what we have, I let my hands take over. Sometimes I spend all day Sunday making something complicated, or three days on marmalade. But I also just like making salad dressing, or slicing fruit, or watching my husband lay out cheese.
Much is said about foods, ingredients, dishes, dining. Recipes are written and meals extolled or scorned. But not much is said about actual cooking – chopping onions, stirring the pot. If you want to know how to make a wedding cake, there are a dozen sources that describe specialized equipment, the mechanical engineering of stacking the layers and how to roll fondant. Deciding on a place to eat? Photos, ratings or taste-and-tell accounts abound. But what about the physical acts that transform ingredients into a meal? Or the collision of ideas and availability that create an unexpected success? The feeling of crushing garlic, cracking an egg, sprinkling salt. Thinking in bed at night about what to do with all those apples. What about the soft sounds of sautéing, or the smell, coming downstairs of last night’s dinner? It seems like cooking is overlooked, wedged between the recipe and the enticing photo.
I did not plan to learn to cook; in fact I planned to avoid it. But cooking slowly became a central part of how I lead my life. I am endlessly fascinated by how foods are made, and by selecting ingredients, combining and working with them. Smelling, touching, imagining, tasting. My husband alleges (and he’s probably right) that there are cookbooks in every room of the house. Oddly, this does not translate into using these thousands of recipes to make actual food. My approach is improvisational, so that a dish is never entirely the same and the best performances are rarely repeated. I like cooking this way – possibly to avoid criticism – but also because it leaves my mind and hands open to wander and create, a freedom that is rare in life.
So, I want to talk about cooking. What it means to me, why I do it, who it’s for. I’d also like to know what you think. What is your primal cooking urge? Why do you make jam or bread or Thai green curry and who are the people you bring to the table to feed?