I hated cooking.
Burns, scars , bruises and especially cuts were all unpredictable circumstances when it came to cooking, but these were all normal and expected and okay, they were a part of life. What was really new was the chemistry of cooking itself, and how often my mother molded on it, She drew the procedures on the wall as the heat changed its colors, poured them into the pot of soup under the pretense of ingredients as it boiled, stir fried it into the vegetables, and burned it into my eyes with red onions that were unexpectedly harsh,” you’ll see how important all this is”, she would say, It was also more annoying for a culture that slaved women away in the kitchen to be perfect not for their children but for their Husbands, but I didn’t even care to be curious about what was important, I simply wanted to be out of there, to not feel the burn in my nose, to just be able to take away the consistent layer of sweat that crawled down my back as the kitchen grew with heat, I wanted to be out of that cauldron, just ,simply, wanted, to be out of there.
All escape plans gradually died as I grew older, because it became part of me, almost like a stubble on a man’s jaw that never seems to completely disappear no matter how much he shaved, I learnt to be plausible with it, adapting to it and seeing to it as more of a blood tie that could never be severed. So I cooked, got comfortable with it and only took much of a break when I went to college, but I never liked it, or counted it as an activity even enjoyable, what I did like and enjoy was the appreciation that came after cooking, how my picky eater of a brother would gleam and exclaim about the deliciousness of the Food, wolf it down and then complain about why there weren’t any leftovers, or how my mother who could never tolerate flaws in Food would eat the plate clean and then do the impossible “request for more”, it made me enthusiastic about cooking ,but later on that cooking shifted from being enthusiasms to pleasing them, it became, about being tensed or broken hearted when they didn’t finish the food, so much that even if I liked the food it did not feel quite right, when they didn’t, and as all things that do not generate for your own happiness always end, That adaptability began to break.
I became fussy and nonchalant about what ever recipe came about, which was so different from my personality as I was more of a perfectionist when it came to me doing something that I had control over, I screamed when someone touched the food or moved it out of place especially when I said not to and threatened with the food whenever someone took me for a joke. It was chaotic, exhausting and definitely uncomfortable for the individuals who ate the food after it had been prepared, this continued for a long time until I simply just fixated myself into the routines and schedules of the preparations and just lived my life.
One day I started watched a Korean drama. Well it wasn’t a drama about cooking, it was just a regular rom-com, and the Female lead had just quit her job and was ready to find her dream, but she didn’t exactly know how and what to find about herself that she loved doing, despite the fact there where a few episodes were she was lost about what she wanted to do, she was able to find it anyway, and as you all are thinking, Yes, cooking, she was curious and very much interested in cooking, and while in this drama, it was very true to her actions and behavior that she liked cooking, it wasn’t exactly portrayed that way, what was shown more was her interest in it, her curiousness in it, and how there was room for exploration and pleasure, and that got my attention. I wasn’t similar to her in a lot of ways but my interests were, and while I had spent years claiming to hate cooking, I didn’t realize that I had unconsciously stepped down from the pedestal of “hate” to “not liking” it, which makes it seem like my resolve had weakened, and so therefore I decided to pay attention to this new interests, I embarked on a silent journey of my own, exploring, discovering, watching and abstractly experimenting on dishes that I thought looked cool, that I also thought may taste delicious. Doing all of this, was actually, FUN. I did it so that I didn’t cook with the recipes I found immediately, but just watched them and felt pleased to look at them, and felt maybe happiness, but I watched solely for my entertainment and if I didn’t like a particular video, I didn’t care to watch it either. Until one day as I was preparing desserts for my siblings for Thanksgiving, there was this huge crumble cake that I thought would look awesome with a stream of chocolate. It was only when I had finished plating that I registered the emotions that came over me as I looked at my finished dish. I was smiling, not because it looked exceptionally great but because, I had been excited to see what my hands could do, that I could make and decorate such a dessert, in ways that brought different ingredients together and made something with it, the realization of my actions thrilled me to the bones so much that even as I write this piece I am not sure if I remembered asking My siblings how those ingredients tasted all together, but that I tasted and looked at it and as God had said it in the Bible “ It was good”.
These days I don’t think I really care if the kitchen is too hot or if I got a cut or had a painful tear session while cutting red onions, although I still scream at those who touch my food wrongly, I have decided on not focusing on too much of that, and Instead, I have indulged in the curiosity of learning new recipes from my own concepts, and while all those procedures may still be tough, I think it is safe to say that I don’t hate cooking anymore.
November 28, 2024.
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