A Fresh Start - Finding Joy in Cooking

One year ago I started cooking. I began earnestly after returning from the Cannes Film Festival, inspired by discussions with friends, and now a year later I go to the market every other day, cooking fresh almost every night. This may not seem like much of an achievement, since most people cook and everyone eats, but for me this is a huge change. Just five years ago when I was living in Los Angeles, I was ordering Papa John’s pizzas by the double almost every other night, complimented by Taco Bell, Subway, P.F. Chang’s, Baja Fresh, Chili’s and anything else nearby I could find that I enjoyed. It made me happy at the time, as tasty food does, but of course it was not healthy. I was seriously overweight. Eventually I realized I needed a drastic change and as much as I wanted to cook, I never got the courage to do so until I finally had a nice place (a good kitchen) to cook in, and inspiration to make dishes that appealed to me, and made me happy, and healthy. It all started once I moved into a new apartment in Hell’s Kitchen, and fell in love with the Greenmarket Farmer’s Markets located around the city.

Now cooking is one of my top motivations every day. I know I’m eating healthy (or healthier), I’m in control of the food I put inside of me, and I know all of it is good for me. Plus I get to prepare food the way I like, which has allowed me to expand my taste immensely. I’ve tried more varieties of food in the last year than I have the rest of my life, and realized I’m a fan of that thing I’ve never had before. I’ve even found a great deal of peace and joy in the process of cooking. It’s a meditative experience, as many others will attest, even if repetitive. Focusing on preparation as a process, and the act of starting something from scratch and completing it to satisfaction in one evening, is hugely rewarding. It doesn’t matter if it’s making something for myself or for another person to enjoy, I feel such relief when I complete a meal. I know that I used the best ingredients that I could find, cooked everything fresh using what I wanted and nothing else, and put in the labor to make a dish that makes my tongue happy, too. And while it may take a few hours of work, during that time I can shut out everything else, forget about the worries of the day plaguing my mind, and focus solely on the food.

The other day at the market I bought a small bag of Red Amaranth leaves. I’ve never had them, but they looked appealing, I couldn’t help getting a few of them to toss into a creation. I thought I’d try them out, only $1 for a small bag. The other night I made a terrible dinner that I couldn’t even finish eating it was so bad. I had to throw out most of it and it really hurt. But I learned my lesson, and figured out the big mistake. These little moments of happiness, discovery, plus the chance to learn, to grow, to experience, to figure things out on my own terms, are why I’ve found so much joy in cooking. It’s a combination of the act of sourcing my food (I love going to the Farmer’s Markets around New York City); the act of deciding what and how to cook (I don’t like onions much, so I prefer shallots and always chop them up finely to my taste); the act of creating and completing a minor work of art within a few hours (using the right set of ingredients from scratch to build a satisfying dish in the end is deeply gratifying on an existential level).

I have no training, no background in cooking, no connection to any chefs, or any interest in food beyond the satisfaction it brings me. I learned from watching my parents, my brother, and videos online. I’ve grown to be a “foodie” in the last few years because I’ve really focused on what I’m eating, and focused on appreciating the freshness/complexity of what I’m eating (not just the temporary satisfaction of it). I do things my way, which is refreshing considering how daunting classic culinary practices are (you must know your five mother sauces or else!), and I make food that makes me happy, while keeping me healthy. I’ll twist a favorite dish (fried rice gets turned into fried quinoa) and improve upon it, or alter it to my liking, and the results are usually amazing. It tastes even better than it could at a restaurant, and when you achieve that kind of success in your own kitchen, it’s exhilarating. And it’s kind of addicting (and it spoils your appetite because some restaurants just aren’t up to par on preparation anymore).

One of my biggest roadblocks to cooking was getting everything I needed to start. I kept telling people I didn’t really have everything I needed to feel comfortable cooking, and this thought (or fear even) was holding me back the most. So when I got home from Cannes, I went out and bought what I could afford: a few knives, peelers, other utensils, a teeming bag of spices from Kalustyan’s (when I start something I can’t half-ass it, must start with the best of the best), olive oil, other groceries I needed for a full pantry, and then food. From there — just start, who cares if you make a bad dish or two. There’s so much good food at the markets that it’s easy to buy something based on how it looks and figure out how to cook it later. This is my strategy most of the time, and as much as that may sound worrisome, it’s not. It allows me to expand my palette, to challenge myself, and to screw up on occasion and learn more about what I don’t like as much as what I do like. The entire experience has helped me grow, and yet I’m still creating meals I want to eat, and I’m still comfortably in control of what I’m enjoying.

My desire to express these feelings about cooking come from how happy I am with my own individual evolution. Most people on this planet don’t change their entire lives, or sometimes it may take decades for them to slowly progress from regular to diet soda to water, for example. However, in five years I’ve gone from being one of the worst eaters, to someone who truly appreciates the complexity and variety of food we grow and consume. I choose to buy organic often because of the benefits of sustainability and locally sourced food, coming from farmers who are passionate about the produce they’re providing us. I’ve tried more food I’ve never had before in this last year than in my 28 years previous, and I feel good for even trying. I thought I hated Brussels sprouts (and thought everyone else did too), but with proper preparation, caramelized in olive oil, they’re simply sublime.

A few months ago I tried making fiddleheads sauteed in garlic from one of my favorite farms at the market. A few weeks ago I made my own meatless bolognese pasta sauce from scratch, starting with fresh tomatoes on the vine, eventually combining them with mushrooms, basil, tempeh (eh) and lots of garlic & onions. My dishes aren’t pretty, they often look a bit ugly (maybe with time and practice this will improve), but man are they good for you. I’m always satisfied when I’m able to improve something by putting my own touches on a classic recipe. I’ve learned my favorite spice is coriander, I use it almost every dish, though I also love saffron (who doesn't?). I adore garlic. I often cook with olive oil or coconut oil. I don’t even have a full oven, just a convection-microwave combo (thankfully it has a “bake” mode), nor do I have a full-sized fridge, food processor or dishwasher. I make use of what I have in the space I’m in (I live in a tiny white box in New York City), while worrying the most about finding quality ingredients to cook with.

I’ve learned that I can be healthy, eat healthy, and still enjoy what I eat. I’ve learned that I don’t hate certain vegetables. I’ve learned that most processed food is terrible, and that fresh food always, always, always tastes better. My mantra now is: use whole foods, cook from scratch as much as possible, get fresh ingredients, and cut out the bad stuff (carbs, sugar, bad oils, etc).

When I visited Japan in March of 2014 and took a course in cultivating bonsai, my instructor asked “why?” I was interested in bonsai. My answer, of course, was the typical answer: inner peace. However, I’ve discovered that there are many ways to discover inner peace and to cultivate it through meditation, and one way is through cooking. The meditative, repetitive, concentrated effort of preparation is an important routine in my life right now; the potential for discoveries from foraging at Farmer’s Markets keeps me ambitious and excited; and the joy in creating delicious meals to eat every night has inspired happiness. I’m glad I took the leap even though I was nervous and unskilled, and I’m glad I didn’t seek formal training and simply taught myself. Today I’m a happier and healthier person for it.