Cooking for Dummies

I'm a pretty darned good cook if I do say so myself.  Although I'm never going to give this guy a run for his money, I know my way around a Viking stovetop and I own not one but two micro-planers, which certainly imparts some degree of street cred.  (Kitchen cred?)

My dear departed mother was not particularly good at it. She was a fantastic mom, a really good singer, had a wicked sense of humor, and rocked superhuman parenting skills, but a cook?  Not so much.  After 25 years of throwing together meals for my family she abruptly declared she hated it and was done when I, the runt of the litter, was the only one left at home at the age of 15.  She still went to the store and made sure we had plenty of groceries, but if I wanted something to eat I had to make it myself.  This was actually a blessing because it was only then that I realized that vegetables actually tasted good when not boiled for twenty-four hours in unsalted water.

You Started It

I didn't become a good cook overnight; it  probably took more like fifteen years. In high school I was adept at triple decker tuna salad sandwiches and I could fry a mean egg without breaking its yolk.  My early twenties saw a growing mastery of meatloaf, tacos, and the occasional marinated, grilled chicken.  Then someone game me the Silver Palate cookbook, where I read that even shopping for ingredients could be part of the overall fun in creating delicious meals.  This idea intrigued me.  I started sensually caressing boxes of cereal and uninhibitedly fondling fresh produce until I was chased  out of Kroger's accompanied by some fairly nasty name calling.  I learned to be more discreet at Safeway, and the foodie inside me started to blossom.

A lot of cooking is trial and error until you start using senses other than your eyes for reading recipes.  A refined sense of smell, an inquisitive tongue, sensitive fingers, and even your ears can help you master the wonders of the culinary process.  If you listen closely you can hear it when the roasting pan is too hot and burning your garlic studded pork tenderloin with julienned root vegetables.  Honestly. You really don't have to wait for the smoke alarm.

Now that I'm accomplished at cooking fairly difficult recipes and can dutifully turn out a holiday meal when everything comes out at the same time, my friends ask me how I learned to do it.  I really don't know.  That's kind of like asking Taylor Swift how can she write such terrible songs, or why swimming pool water looks blue. Partly it's practice, it's definitely a respect for quality ingredients, but mostly it's an instinct for flavors and textures that will trippingly tap dance on one's tongue.  Unlike my mother, I truly love chopping and peeling, simmering and tasting, roasting and basting while eagerly drinking in all the intoxicating aromas (as well as a glass or two of cabernet.)  It's really fun for me, and provides another outlet for expressing my creativity besides just writing about food all the time.

I'd love to find someone who feels exactly the same way about doing the dishes.