more interesting
use limitations than
overcome struggle
I’m not a good cook. Not that I don’t have my moments—like anyone who has spent thirty years happily cooking, I have absorbed something along the way. And in its casual way, it pays off—God knows I eat well enough. However, if our criterion for goodness is whether I possess anything like a genuinely well-rounded repertoire of dishes I consistently prepare well, then my credentials are nothing much to boast about. Quite honestly, this has never bothered me much at all.
It’s my experience that truly good cooks are born. I was not born to be one, and I don’t like being trained, especially if the result is going to be mere competency. I’ve generally found life a lot more interesting learning to use my limitations than struggling to overcome them.
For example, since I have little patience in getting things just right, I tend to avoid dishes that require a calculated perfection. I’m a compulsive fiddler, so I steer clear of foods that must be set up to run and then left to cook strictly on their own. And since I can’t abide following someone else’s directions, I rarely prepare anything that I can’t get a good mental fix on before I start.
Thoughts for Thanksgiving.
I am making pies.
Blueberry and pumpkin.
I will craft them out of flour and lard and water and fruit or pie mix.
I will follow the example of my Mom by I will craft them my way.
As Anthony Bourdain once said, “Cooking is a craft, I like to think, and a good cook is a craftsman — not an artist. There’s nothing wrong with that: the great cathedrals of Europe were built by craftsmen — though not designed by them. Practicing your craft in expert fashion is noble, honorable and satisfying.”
No Haiku For You 