My sister and I were never inclined to cook when we were children. Sure, I made my infamous Peta-endorsed recipe, Tofu Burritos (heavy on the cumin!), once or twice when I was nine, but after that brief stint in culinary-dom, I rarely lifted a knife or flicked a whisk. By the time I met Zach, I had cultivated an anti-cooking identity, mainly from insecurity and prior eating disorders; I proudly proclaimed my total ineptitude and allowed him the manly task of wining and dining me. (Quick note: Which reminds me, the first meal he ever cooked for me was steak pizzaiole, homemade caesar salad, biscotti from scratch, and chocolate-covered fruit. I spent the night.)
The first time I made enchiladas. Not from tofu.
Week by week, I was introduced to new comestibles, Food Network, and a different way of looking at the way one prepares and eats food. That one could take pleasure in the rhythmic chopping of vegetables. That patience for stocks was richly rewarded with hearty, flavorful soups. That cake doesn't come from a box. I'm embarrassed to say that I had never experienced the flavor of capers, or knew what a shallot was, before I met Zach. I also never knew how good bacon tasted, or how to properly hold a knife, or that eggs finish cooking on the plate and not the pan. It is safe to say that Zach was the catalyst for me becoming the food-obsessed girl I am today. So thank you, my sweet, epicurean partner.
It doesn't come as a surprise to me when I hear that people in nutrition and cooking often had some sort of eating disorder in the past. When you are controlled by such fear, distrust, or powerlessness over something that is mandatory to live, it's difficult to take genuine pleasure from a good meal. Not the kind of manic, perfunctory satisfaction of binge-eating or knit-picky dieting, but the ritual of sitting down, and tasting, smelling, looking, hearing, and most importantly, ENJOYING what you eat.
I love the Ayurvedic idea of reverence towards one's body through our diet (and the act of eating itself). "...it is important for the development of consciousness as well as our physical health." Although I have to admit, I am a long way off from eating in line with Ayurvedic philosophy, there are a lot of ideas I agree with. To know where your food comes from: what area, what farm, how it was grown, how it was prepared and transported. To prepare your meal with love, in a clean, healthy environment. To eat slowly, taking in the experience with all your senses.
I think when some people learn to manage their eating disorders (I personally don't believe it is ever "cured") and develop a healthier relationship with food, they are often delighted or intrigued by the kind of positive pleasure it can give them--either directly, or indirectly, by feeding those around them. That's how my experience was, anyways. I never thought I would be able to cook a pie without eating the entire thing by myself as soon as it came out of the oven. But I can, and I do. Cooking and eating has become much like everything else in my life today: about balance. There's only so much control I can exert in a recipe, I can sometimes follow directions, I can improvise other times--and then it either turns sublime, in the garbage, or somewhere in between. But the process is always a joy. I used to despise baking because I was/am an impatient person with little inclination to perfectly measure things out. Thus, my cakes would overflow from the pans and my cookies tasted like sandpaper. I did everything in a rushed and dissatisfactory manner for a quick end result, which never turned out well. Today, baking has become a sort of meditation for me. It teaches me to be patient, to be loving in every action (however small), to live in the moment, and once the pan is in the oven, turn the results over to the universe. I just hope I can eat those results :)
xo, A
