Is cooking an art, a habit? Are you born with unique cooking talents or do you get them with experience? Can anyone cook? Is it important to learn cooking? Probably philosophers already have answered some of these questions; some are still in the process of debating on the halls of colleges, dinner tables at homes or even in the dark corner of the nearest pub in town (maybe not).
I fell in love with cooking since I was young. In my family, there is a habit of preparing food every day and taking the time to enjoy it during lunch or dinner or, if possible, both. I am lucky here, the habit of eating homemade food came to me since I was a kid, and this helped for me to fall in love with cooking later on.
The smell in the kitchen, while the crushed garlic was dancing in a profound rhythm with butter and onions, was mesmerizing. The “food tester’s job,” while my mom was cooking, was my favorite. I was there for every ready-to-try bite and nod as if the chef at the hottest “5 Star-Michelin” restaurant was giving the “OK” for a newly prepared dish. Looking at the whole variety of spices without knowing what they were, their names or where they came from, just smelling them and trying to understand the close relationship between senses of taste, look, and smell. Continue reading “To cook or not to cook”
Variety is as important in life as it is in food. One should not live a life without variety, it will be tedious and exhausting, and it will be tough to learn new things, acquire experiences and flavor our memories without varying our daily basis in life. Food acts the same way, without mixing and varying our daily intake of food, we will be punishing our palate, and most importantly, we will be depriving ourselves of vital nutrients, that keeps our health balanced and our body properly functioning.
Every time I saw an unrecognizable, weird-looking, funny smell, and horrible texture piece of food on my plate, my skills as the new food Houdini came to practice. I would do as if I were eating it to trick my parents. I would put as much as I could on a napkin, hide it in my pocket (of course if lucky enough to be wearing shorts with pockets) and sneak it out as soon as I finished eating. I would also happily fed the dog under the table, who was always interested in trying that new food I wasn’t going to enjoy anyways.
For some reason, the portion of that new and strange alien food on my plate, was way bigger than my precious chicken nuggets, my homemade French fries or the tiny little bugger pads I so much loved to eat. On my eight years old expertise about food, Pasta had to come with red or white sauce, no green stuff on it, Chicken was meant to be eaten every single day, salads were made of one little piece of lettuce and one tomato slice, so there will be enough room for dessert.