Let me state from the outset. I can cook. I can follow a recipe. I can improvise a bit. I just choose to not cook these days. Or rather it’s a bit hard to in my NYC apartment and I don’t push it. Now, with that out of the way, I can share my bit of reminiscing I was doing this morning.
When I was a young girl, I would get up and make coffee. Not for me. I never even had a sip. However, apparently I made good coffee and my mom loved it. It made me happy to do it.
Then I went to boarding school and didn’t really have any opportunity to hone any cooking skills. However, during the holidays I learned to bake. I made the best pineapple upside down cake and super fudge brownies. I had a secret ingredient! My family would go make special grocery runs so just that I could make those brownies. They didn’t last long. It made me happy to do it.
In my twenties, with my first job and paycheck in my hand, I started exploring. I learned to make corn chowder and stews. I learned to cook Indian food; which was something completely new to me. I also learned Chinese dishes. It was a time of exploration. I even held dinner parties showcasing these exploratory efforts. I even made this chili dish that I myself couldn’t eat because I’m allergic to beans. But apparently it was fabulous. It made me happy to do it.
Then I went to graduate school and had no time for real cooking. I started to drink coffee for the first time. I learned that did I did make tasty coffee. I made quick noodle meals where I could stuff into it anything I found around. Then I starting using my degree and traveled the country building up health programs. I learned to order well at restaurants.
Fast forward to today. A pandemic. Shut downs. I learned to order delivery extremely well. I still make very good, strong coffee. The constant in my life.
We shall see what happens next. The fridge is wide open.