Sunday, January 6, 2013
Betty Freaking Crocker
Now, at this point, as much as I might find the act of figuring out what to make for dinner annoying, and as much as I hate having to come home and immediately start dinner, there is something strangely therapeutic about the act of putting together a grouping of simple items and making something that people enjoy. Chopping vegetables, or boiling pasta, or grilling chicken is mindless. Simple. Follow the right steps, you get the right outcome. I like the predictability of it. Plus, when not burdened with the task of figuring out meals, I still find myself drawn to the kitchen to bake something. I like the way dough feels when it's being kneaded. I like the smell of it as I shape it out. I like that my house smells like baking bread. I like producing cakes, cupcakes, cookies, bread loaves, homemade icing, and having it turn into something that makes people happy, or makes people smile when they come home and find treats.
I never expected that this is what I would turn to as a hobby, or something I do when I want to relax and not think about much. When life is complicated, cooking doesn't have to be. You mix the right ingredients, and you get the right outcome. You can always adjust to make it just right. There's comfort in the predictability. There's comfort in knowing that a little more flour will fix a sticky situation, and if you make a mistake, it's not so hard to start over again. I like that in as little as 30 minutes, I can make someone's day better just by feeding them. Sure, I still don't eat beef, or tomatoes, or a ton of other things, but what I do eat I can cook pretty darn well, and there's comfort in that.