Safe space for cooks

In the last year I have become, at different intervals that now run together, addicted to words and food. Too imprecise. I have become determined to write a book and infatuated with time in the kitchen. The book piece…well…I manage at least 20 minutes of writing six days a week with the help of my accountability partner, but the cooking piece…

I am irritated if I am unable to cook something, even simply assemble something in the kitchen. Some nights when the week has wrecked me and the grocery store is too much to manage (or I’m afraid of leaving another $50 there) I may simply rummage around and piece together something simple. 

• Simple these days varies from miso soup with soba noodles and whatever dried mushrooms and fresh vegetable is have with an egg on top for good measure (6 minutes or poached in the broth depending on my mood) or,

•  A bootleg quesadilla with corn tortillas from the tortillaria and cheese and beans and veggies from wherever. Occasionally I’ll use one of my homemade veggie burgers as the central piece and build around it.

I’m digressing here…

The point is that what fills me with excitement and joy more than anything else right now is cooking. I read books about food, I scour blogs and recipe sites, I joined Instagram and began posting my own and greedily watching other people’s feeds. The recipes and feeds inspire me to test out new ideas or add my own twist. 

I want to talk about food all the time. I do with cooking what my friends with babies or pets do…I talk about it constantly. I show photos. I offer up the experiential (hold her, pet him, taste this).

People seem less understanding about my desire to talk about the preparation of food even as they are enthusiastic about tasting it. 

I am reminded of my return for Peace Corps where we were warned, “Your capacity to talk about your experience far exceeds other people’s desire to listen. Pick five photos and three pictures and after that, wait for someone to ask.” It was sound advice, advice I’ve tried to carry with me on my other traveling and living stints.

It is advice I have summarily ignored when it comes to food stories.

The other day, after showing off the previous week’s creations, a friend asked me if I was blogging my food stuff. “Nah,” I answered, “I started and stopped.” “You should,” she offered up.” I was ecstatic. Then my other friend chimed in, “Yes, you really should.” 

I heard them; clearly I need someplace to put all of this enthusiasm for caramelizing broccoli (who knew that was a thing?) or the merits of basil leaves vs. sage leaves pressed into freshly homemade pasta. So here I am to talk through my food obsession – using the words I love to express my desire to not only eat the world- but to cook it!