Learning to love cooking
There was a time when I said with undoubted misery, “I can’t cook.” Little did I know how I would grow to love cooking and anticipate coming home after work to wind down by stirring a risotto, or release tension by bashing the hell out of a chicken fillet.
I believe that food has an impact on people’s lives whether it be for health or for indulgence, for necessity or for enjoyment. Food can be memories or comfort, fuel or art. Eating food can provide succour, while cooking food can be a way of showing our love for another person.
Not too long ago, I finally embraced my desire to write for a living and am now studying Professional Writing and Editing. While I have loved writing and creating stories since I was a small child, my love of food has been a gradual, steady affair which began slowly through my grandma’s cooking and grew into my moving out of home and beginning to cook for myself for the first time.
I started this blog with the intention of showcasing my writing skills while writing about something I love, which eventuated as being a way of sharing food experiences that are memorable to me. Taking pleasure in the food we eat adds meaning to our lives in a sensory way – my earliest memories of cooking are baking with my grandma when I was little. Helping to measure out flour and combine the ingredients with grandma’s trusty wooden spoon. The smell of baking resonating through the house, licking the remainder of the batter from the spoon while sitting in front of the oven watching the cake slowly rise before my inquisitive eyes.
As I reached adulthood and moved away from home for the first time, I remember relentlessly eating my roommate’s tacos for several weeks before I’d had enough and began my pursuit of some different meals. Fishing for recipes on the internet and thumbing through my faithful Nigella Lawson cookbook (Kitchen was the first real cookbook I ever owned), I began planning weekly dinners with more relish than I ever thought possible. Soon the general consensus was that I should be the in-house cook from then on.
With a newfound happiness for cooking and seeing that it brought others happiness too, I admit now I was wrong when I once ventured to say “I can’t cook.”