RSSFilling life with the good things
Jan 28
Uncategorized ave's going to be so glad i've decided to cook more, cherry pie, food is tasty, I feel like this post is full of R's like Rachel and Rose and Recipe and Relaxation, learning to love left overs, maybe cooking's not so bad after all, presto pesto No Comments
As I relish this last weekend before the chaos of the spring semester begins, I’m taking some time to slow down, some time for myself.
While I was in Costa Rica, I came across an old copy of the magazine Every Day with Rachel Ray. As I leafed through it, I kept bookmarking recipes that looked so delicious I could hardly stand it. I dragged the magazine back home with me, and today I stopped at the grocery store for some ingredients and then cooked myself up a delicious dinner. Now, I’m going to take inspiration from my friend Rose and share that dinner, and its significance to my life in this moment, with you.
The recipe was called Lentils with Winter Pesto and Braised Sausages. I chose it because it wasn’t too intimidating and it incorporated a lot of fresh ingredients, like parsley and arugula and carrots and (gasp) onion.
I started out my endeavor with some cleaning–I like to start with a nice empty kitchen before I get going. And then I set to work chopping and chopping and chopping and chopping some more, separating ingredients to be sauteed and braised and pureed.
As I worked, I thought about my general aversion to cooking. I like to tell people I don’t like to cook, unless its for a special occasion, like Thanksgiving or a special birthday dinner. I think the real problem is that I’m not so great at waiting–I like to eat when I’m hungry, and if a meal can be ready in 5 minutes or less, so much the better. I’m a slow cook, I realized, as I spent the better part of half an hour picking off leaves of parsley and mint for the pesto.
But then, as the ingredients began to pile up, I started to think about what’s nice about cooking. There’s a certain kind of peace that comes in losing yourself in a project that requires your full focus, letting the day fall away as you move around the kitchen. There’s something relaxing in the rhythm of chopping and adding and stirring. There’s anticipation in watching the recipe come together, and a certain thrill and delight in the smells as you mix and mingle the ingredients. And it feels good to know that the food your about to eat fits together and looks beautiful and feels healthy (at least a heck of a lot healthier than the cheese pizza you’d been thinking about ordering).
There’s also a certain kind of art in cooking. It’s an art I don’t always trust myself with. I watch with envy as other people eyeball amounts and swap out ingredients with brazen confidence. I’m the kind of cook who likes thorough explanations and careful measurements, who follows the recipe to the most minute level (I’ve lost hours of my life shaking and scraping and adjusting cups of flour so they’re perfectly even and full). But tonight I decided to let myself take liberties. I substituted in pecans for walnuts, nixed the celery all together, confidently put in nutmeg from a spice jar instead of the fresh grated that Rachel called for. I let myself work with what I had and make the recipe mine. It was a nice feeling.
As I sat down to a savory dinner, I decided to try to make more of an effort in the kitchen. I decided to try to make menus, to learn to like left overs. Because if I can find peace in cooking, if I can avoid stress because meals are made ahead of time, if I can eat a bit healthier, and if I can save a bit of money, what have I got to lose? Nothing.
So with that in mind, I’ve begun a menu for the week:
-Tomato and garlic soup (made and stored for the nights I teach)
-Meatballs and minestra (also to eat then store for teaching nights)
-Stuffing-seasoned chicken cutlets with pear sauce
-Eggplant and squash curry
-Chicken with apple gravy, rice pilaf, and green beans
And, because the one thing I really love to do in the kitchen is bake, tomorrow I’m going to make a cherry pie. With a homemade crust. Booyah.