Small Joys
Small
Joys
My hands smell of garlic. It is annoying and comforting at the same
time. I catch myself holding my hands up to my nose during my work day, to
check to see if the pungency has worn off yet. It hasn’t. But it’s only been two days since I chopped
and crushed up garlic cloves for a bisque recipe I was trying. I have sort of eased into enjoying
cooking. Before I was married, cooking,
for me, would be to maybe bake some chicken breasts and five-minute rice, stir
in some type of jarred or canned sauce.
Not to say I don’t still make this meal from time to time.
Lately, I’ve ventured into more
“complicated” recipes, that actually involve chopping and searing and spices,
oh my. Blue Apron has supplied me
ingredients to use that I’ve never even seen in real life, save for the Food
Network. I have treated those insulated card board boxes full of fresh food as
mini cooking classes, likening the experience of seeing the package on my
doorstep to a jubilant child on Christmas morning. I wouldn’t consider any
mishaps disasters in the kitchen, at least with the Blue Apron meals. I may
have opted out of using some of the stringy saffron or Portobello mushrooms,
because well I just don’t care for Indian flavors or mushrooms. Some well-fed and cultured foodies would whole
heartedly disagree with me, I know. But you can’t say I haven’t tried either of
those things in the hopes I would enjoy them.
I will try anything culinary, once.
I think.
Except for bugs. I will not under
any circumstances eat any kind of creepy crunchy crawly, fried or not. And
brains. Not eating brains.
So, maybe there are a few things I
won’t try.
I have had one major fail in the
kitchen and it involved a homemade cake recipe from the internet and strawberry
icing. I have longed to be a good baker for years, dreamt of being skilled at
decorating, making goodies for the office on occasion. But I am just not. I
think it is because I am too lazy. Baking requires exactness and the use of
many tools and appliances, and the cleaning of said tools and appliances. I thought I was following the directions, but
there was something amiss with the baking powder and butter measurements
because the cakes stayed about as flat as two pancakes stuck together. The
icing, not whipped enough because I was too slothful to use my new-to-me stand
mixer and its accoutrements, slid off the flat cakes and globbed on the side of
the glass dish. It was more than hideous.
But we scooped some of the parts
together and tasted it.
Way too much confectioners’ sugar
in the icing. Too much butter in the
cakes.
It would be the first and probably
the only time I would dispose of cake in a trash bag instead of in my mouth.
That is BAD.
I have stated to family members who
were party to this disaster that I will try again someday and perhaps be more
careful. It is clear that I will not be appearing on the World’s Best Baker
competitions on the Food channels, unfortunately for me and my dreams.
I do find that baking and cooking
can be cathartic. If I’m in the right mood and frame of mind, it can be sort of
meditative and calming. It is exhilarating to me to think that I can create a
tasty dish from words on a page using fire and my own hands. Not new concepts to anybody, but quite an
experience when you get to really see and understand it for yourself.
This is probably why I get a
comfortable feeling when I smell the garlic aroma floating off of my fingers as
I type. It reminds me that my life is not a crappy job. It’s not the mounting
debt or a seemingly useless Master’s degree sitting on a shelf. It’s not about worrying if there is time to
have babies. It’s not about Alzheimer’s
that eats its way into a family like rotted pork, sickening everyone that eats
it.
Take time. Slow down. Breathe.
There are many small joys within
each day and just looking forward to them can get you through.
this short piece is from my writing portfolio, http://bkreckerd.weebly.com/
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