Cooking Things: February 2008 Archives

Of all the things I've learned to do over the years, one of the skills I'm most glad to have is my ability to cook. Especially when I see how much poorer a quality-of-life people who cannot cook seem to have, regardless of their income. In fact, there are lots of people who make far more than I do (especially in this town) who don't eat nearly as well.

Because I am a natural cook and I learned so early (at the knee of Julia Child, as it were), I find it hard to imagine being intimidated by ingredients, and hard to imagine having to follow recipes to the letter, or being afraid to improvise. I've thought many times that I'd like to write a cookbook that would help people to learn in approximately the way I learned - that would be more like having a pal in the kitchen to encourage and guide experimentation, which I feel is the key to becoming what I think of as a real cook.

I did write something like that, once, for a friend who'd asked for a cookbook that explained the ultra-ultra basics. I did little diagrams of what a medium or low flame on a gas stove looks like, and added in some silly cartoon vegetables to make it extra-friendly. Really, my aim was not just to explain how to do the basics, but to make the whole thing seem less mysterious, and less like a chore.

I am reminded of all this by the smell coming from my stove, where I've got some apple/pear sauce with ginger and cinnamon and cloves and maple syrup simmering. And also by how nice it was to make soup earlier and eat it, and to feel so very content from those simple acts. There is something primal about cooking - something that puts us in touch with the elements of the earth, with our own creativity, and with the unique joys of smell, taste, and satiation. I hate the idea that there are people who miss out on that, who maybe even live their whole lives kept alive by restaurant food, without ever having the smell of something wonderful simmering in their kitchens.