Tuesday, April 26, 2011

For the Record...

I love cooking.  Cooking for me must be what writing a song is like to a musician, painting a picture is like for an artist, what dancing is like for a dancer.  It's exhilarating.  It's frustrating.  It's hard.  It's fun.  It makes me smile, and it makes me wanna throw shit across the kitchen.  I get to use my hands and have many different instruments to choose from.  I get to get down and dirty, sticking my hands in squishy, soppy things.  I get to create.  I get to manipulate.  I get to saute, puree, flambe.  I get to indulge.  I get to smack things, beat things, roll things, cut things, flour things, bake things, stick my hand inside things.  It's absolutely amazing and I love it.   

Do I want it to be my job?  Not in a million years.  I am often asked, "Why don't you go to culinary school?" and I quickly reply, "Because I'm already $80,000 in debt from Undergrad and Grad school."  Then I'm asked, "Well why don't you just get a job in a kitchen and go from there?"  And my response is, "Because I have no real experience in a formal kitchen, besides the occasional make-a-platter-look-pretty move, or make a cheese river for a buffet table (I gotta thank my buddy Julien for teaching me that one), or garnishing things, so why would any chef hire me?"  Or, "I'm only experienced to work in a place like Chili's or Applebee's...both places I despise, so no thank you."  The other one I usually hear is, "You missed your calling."  Hey thanks...that's exactly what I need to hear.  My life is now wasted because my calling has been missed.  I guess I should just wait for my demise, and throw in the towel, because I have already missed my purpose in life.  

Here's how I feel about cooking.  It's therapeutic.  Smashing a clove of garlic or pounding out a piece of chicken is good for the soul.  Turning something I've never even heard of into a surprisingly delicious dish makes me proud.  I love to cook.  The more you cook, the better you become at cooking.  I used to never stray from a recipe.  Now, I whip up my own creations all the time and they are GOOD!!  I find that I love my food so much, that eating out has become less attractive to me because I am uber-critical about the food I encounter in restaurants.  I find that often, I can do it better.  I can taste the difference between fresh and frozen.  I can tell if you opened up a bag, poured its contents into a bowl, melted cheese over it and passed it off as $9 French Onion Soup.  I can tell if the woman or man in the white uniform and funny hat in the back loves or hates their job just by taking that first bite.   

I love to try new things.  I can't eat the same piece of chicken everyday.  I hate leftovers.  I just want to create things.  Things that I'm not responsible for for the rest of my life.  Things that I can eat after I create them, or throw away if I don't like them.  Cooking is my hobby.  The minute I turn it into a job that consumes me and makes me hate it, is the minute I'm no longer interested.  Capish??


ashley said...

Amen sister. You took the words right out of my brain and put them on paper. We should start a cooking show.....Now that would be fun.

Jess said...

That would be fun!

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