The simplest dish
How I learned to cook for myself
For the longest time, I didn’t really mess around with cooking.
I never felt at-ease in a kitchen. The art - and it is one - of combining various discrete ingredients into a coherent whole, resulting in a meal I might want to eat always felt like some kind of inscrutable alchemy. It always felt easier to let someone else do that work, and for me to enjoy the fruits of that labor.
The embarrassing result was that I made it to my 40s without really knowing how to cook.
Now, I could make rice; I could make pasta. I could grill hamburgers and chicken. But beyond that? Forget it. Occasionally, I’d crack open a cookbook, or search for “easy” recipes on the Internet. I’d pick one, earnestly thinking that I would teach myself how to make this dish, and make it well enough that it would be a meal I could dependably eat.
I’d read the recipe; and then, I’d get flustered. OK, so this says it takes 15 minutes to make. But this feels like it would take more than 15 minutes to make! And what does “sear” mean? Crap, I don’t have the kind of pot this is asking for…can I substitute what I do have? And on, and on. Inevitably, I’d rush around the kitchen, frantically trying to keep up with what a supposedly “easy” recipe was telling me to do. None of this was fun, or relaxing, or fulfilling. My efforts invariably turned out meals that were, at most, edible; and even worse, the tension and stress involved in cooking those occasional meals discouraged me from trying more often — which is really the only way anyone can become good at anything, whether it’s writing, shooting arrows, or cooking.
It didn’t help that most times, I would try cooking on weeknights, when I’d get to my house tired from working all day. Combine that with the reality of living in New York City —the easiest American city for someone to eat takeout or delivery — and it’s easy to see why I didn’t really know how to cook until just now.
Why just now? Two reasons: like a lot of people, I’ve been quarantining and working from home. That meant that I had a lot more time and opportunities to familiarize myself with the kitchen, and with how to cook simple dishes. The second was more deliberate: I decided I wouldn’t order any takeout or delivery meals for the duration of the quarantine. The last takeout meal I had was a pizza I ordered on March 10th; since then, I’ve cooked every meal I’ve eaten.
I made that decision based on health reasons: I didn’t want to run the risk that whomever prepared or delivered my meals would be sick with COVID-19. Cooking my own meals removed that potential risk factor. It also forced my hand and meant I had to learn how to cook in order to feed myself. In short: I forced myself to jump into the pool in order to learn how to swim, and not just doggie-paddle, so to speak.
It’s been a little over a month since I did that. What have I learned?
First: I’m very much a beginner when it comes to cooking, and that’s ok. The dishes I make aren’t going to look like the pictures I see on Instagram or cookbooks or recipe sites, and that’s ok. As long as I like the way they taste, that’s all that matters.
Second: I feel like the vast majority of cooking content — whether it’s recipes or pictures or what have you — is oriented towards people who already know how to cook. Especially recipes. Especially recipes.
“When I taught myself to cook at home” Meghan McCarron writes, “I immediately discovered most recipes aren’t written for anxious beginners. Instead, they assume the cook is already competent and looking to level up or add another dish to their repertoire. The rewards and demands of social media virality have only supercharged recipes’ emphasis on novelty and visual beauty. As someone who now knows how to cook, I love reading about a hack for cooking short ribs or a surprising use for my rice cooker. But back when I barely knew how to boil water, recipes telling me which tweak or technique yielded ideal results made turning on the oven feel high stakes. All that emphasis on aspiration and perfection made it way too hard to get started.”
That is some real shit, as in the sense that this is Truth™. When I read Meghan’s essay (title: “If You Literally Never Cook, Start Here”), I nearly cried with relief. Finally, someone fucking gets it. Thank you. Thank you! If you’re like me or Meghan, I strongly recommend you read her essay. Then take a few deep breaths, and go easy on yourself.
Third: speaking of going easy on yourself, the biggest thing I learned was how to cook the same meal in different ways. Take, for instance, the chili dish I photographed above. I made that with a few ingredients:
rice pilaf
chili base from a can
assorted canned vegetables and beans
shredded chicken and ham
I added salt, pepper, taco seasoning, and cheese. I made a giant pot of it, enough to render leftovers. The following couple of days, I had the chili with pasta and with regular brown rice. That’s three different meals from the same basic set of ingredients.
Yes, it’s extremely basic. That doesn’t matter; it was filling, I liked the way it tasted, and it meant I wasn’t cooking meals from scratch. The whole point of this is becoming comfortable with working in the kitchen, and more importantly, turning that space from the kitchen into my kitchen. Doing that gets me to a point where I’ll be comfortable cooking things from scratch.
In other words: it’s the culinary equivalent of training wheels.
And that’s fine! At some point, I’ll take off the training wheels, and pedal around on a simple bike. But for now, training wheels are okay.
What matters, more than anything else, is that for the first time in my life I’m not stressing out about being in a kitchen. Last night was the first night I cooked something that didn’t quite work out (and burnt my hand, which hurt like hell, but whatever, I’ll be fine), and instead of being depressed about it, and blaming myself…I shrugged.
I shrugged, and made something else. I’ll do the same thing today, and tomorrow, and so on, until this all ends. I won’t lie, though: I’m looking forward to going ham on some tostadas or dim sum or steak once we’re out free.
But till then, I’ll cook and eat for myself.
Thank you for reading all that. It’s been a week; I hope we’ll take a chance to relax this weekend. I love all of you, and I’m grateful you’re reading this.