What's Cooking; March 5 2021

Trigger warning on this blog post for disordered eating and a brief mention of suicidal ideation.

After a demoralizing work week, I’ve been reflecting on the one thing that’s brought me any sense of satisfaction, lately. Enjoyment has been coming from what is, for me, the least likely possible place:

Cooking.

For thirty years of my life, I haven’t gotten anything out of food but the fuel necessary to keep living. I’ve never particularly liked eating. I’m talking about every single part of the process, too – sure, I had favourite foods (all made by my mom, who is an excellent cook) but if given the chance, the choice? I’d never eat again.

I think a big part of that was equating food to waste. Preparing food is wasted time; consuming food is wasted energy; buying food is wasted money.

When I had my kid, I tried to change my attitude. I wanted to be a good influence on her, when it came to eating, even if that influence was less ‘eat healthy’ and more ‘eat regularly’. I still don’t particularly need her to get all her food groups in – if she eats a full meal, I’m thrilled. But I’ve had to choke down my own meals to feel justified in that.

Then the worst break-up that could have possibly happened to me came to pass. I was forced out of my home, away from my support systems, my friends. Months later, the pandemic hit.

I was going to lose everything if I didn’t make a change. Lose my mind, maybe lose my life. Money was tighter than ever, but the first big investment I made when trying to replace all I’d lost? Spices.

My daughter couldn’t go to daycare, obviously. She’s still not going until vaccines are a thing. Time preparing meals became ‘me-time’, even if she was technically with me while I was making lunch or dinner. Occasionally, I’d have the kitchen to myself while her uncle was babysitting, and I felt the least I could do to repay him for the time was feed him along with the rest of us. I started playing around with flavours, copying and altering recipes.

Before I realized it was happening, I was having fun. I was doing Kitchen Science and liking the results.

Obviously, I still have a lot to learn. I’ve got a long way to go before I’m any kind of chef. I’ve got usually a 50/50 shot of getting all the parts of a meal on the plate while everything’s hot. I’m proud when people like what I made, though, and that’s usually the case. Moreover, I like the things I’ve been making. Rice vinegar salmon marinades, cornbread that tastes like pancakes, garlic and herb chicken, brown sugar cookies.

Cooking is more than it was when I was younger. The thing is, I’m pretty sure that if I’d started learning in my, say, early twenties? It would feel like a chore. This was the right time.

If you suffer from disordered eating, I encourage you to start playing with your food (in the recipe sense. Or, you know, any sense, actually!) – it may not help, it may not be the right time or place to make a difference.

But if it does make a difference? It’ll change your world.