To all the regular joes & janes that run ... on the roads & in their heads.
the joy of cooking
I'm an eater: Not the kind of person that only eats to sustain nourishment and to continue living, but also not the gourmand type of eater who will only swoon when the dish in front of her costs at last $50 dollars or more. No, I enjoy the act of eating and the relish the various types of food that I can put into my mouth (and my stomach, and occasionally I will seek out a particular establishment to get just the "right moment" meal or food item. It's no secret that I love my bread and cheese. Every now and then, a cola over ice with real lemon slices will also hit the spot perfectly. I also like looking at food porn and imagining certain foods in my head (especially during the last couple of kilometers during a long run). And I can talk a lot about food - how it tastes, how it smells, how it looks, how some cultures serve and eat their food. I think you get the picture about how deep my food obsession runs.
It is only today though that I have spent a bit more time of self-conscious awareness over the act of cooking itself, and how it sometimes can override my joy of eating. I mean ok, cooking without eating stinks. But the preparations that go into making a satisfactory meal can be immensely gratifying.
For example, Carole, who has been sailing quite extensively over the past few months (to put it midly!) spent a few of her posts describing the activities that go into her efforts of preparing meals on the ship, often using a pressure cooker, at times baking. Sure, her eating out experiences are also a very enjoyable read, but there is something about following her cooking exploits that makes it extra interesting.
Similarly, I just finished "Julie & Julia", and more than imagining the French food that they imbibe, her descriptions of how she is preparing many and many of the intricate and slow preparations that go into making French food, intriguing, fascinating and unapologetically salacious.
Most of the times when I cook, I'm start out rushed, cranky, and impatient. I just want to get it done and some food into me, pronto. But there are times when the act of cooking becomes that one moment that balances stillness and chaos just so; when you look around and know that what is going to emerge at the end of the cooking will be just right. Sure, the anticipation of eating that said result is great; but what is even greater is imagining how others will enjoy it and how, for a fleeting moment, all is right with the world.
I just finished barbecuing. The vegetables roasted exactly the way I imagined in the time I thought it would take, and prepping and cutting them until they looked like a gleaming colourful bouquet mix just served to show off their deliciousness (peppers are just perfect for the barbecue, and I'm trying out some bok choy and bright orange coloured beets today for the first time). The garlic-rosemary encrusted veal chop and the marinated ribs added an incredible smell in the air, easily evoking a level of excitement that children must feel when they enter a chocolate factory. It seems silly to ask, but is there a cooker's high?
Even the clean up that has to invariably follow does not seem so bad.
It is only today though that I have spent a bit more time of self-conscious awareness over the act of cooking itself, and how it sometimes can override my joy of eating. I mean ok, cooking without eating stinks. But the preparations that go into making a satisfactory meal can be immensely gratifying.
For example, Carole, who has been sailing quite extensively over the past few months (to put it midly!) spent a few of her posts describing the activities that go into her efforts of preparing meals on the ship, often using a pressure cooker, at times baking. Sure, her eating out experiences are also a very enjoyable read, but there is something about following her cooking exploits that makes it extra interesting.
Similarly, I just finished "Julie & Julia", and more than imagining the French food that they imbibe, her descriptions of how she is preparing many and many of the intricate and slow preparations that go into making French food, intriguing, fascinating and unapologetically salacious.
Most of the times when I cook, I'm start out rushed, cranky, and impatient. I just want to get it done and some food into me, pronto. But there are times when the act of cooking becomes that one moment that balances stillness and chaos just so; when you look around and know that what is going to emerge at the end of the cooking will be just right. Sure, the anticipation of eating that said result is great; but what is even greater is imagining how others will enjoy it and how, for a fleeting moment, all is right with the world.
I just finished barbecuing. The vegetables roasted exactly the way I imagined in the time I thought it would take, and prepping and cutting them until they looked like a gleaming colourful bouquet mix just served to show off their deliciousness (peppers are just perfect for the barbecue, and I'm trying out some bok choy and bright orange coloured beets today for the first time). The garlic-rosemary encrusted veal chop and the marinated ribs added an incredible smell in the air, easily evoking a level of excitement that children must feel when they enter a chocolate factory. It seems silly to ask, but is there a cooker's high?
Even the clean up that has to invariably follow does not seem so bad.
Comment
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Comment by Jane on June 10, 2009 at 3:41pm - Sorry to hear you are pooped!
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Comment by Carole Noble on June 9, 2009 at 6:09pm - I've enjoyed cooking on the boat - no distractions - and time and the will to try a cooking a few new things - but tonight Bob is cooking. I'm pooped and I have no enthusiasm for the culinary arts right now.
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