For the past few weeks, I've been documenting my cooking on Instagram. Some dishes are tasty and some I'm never making again (my apologies to Scott for being my guinea pig). With cooking, I noticed I can cook each side of the pendulum, either very meticulous and militant to follow a recipe, or just delicious accidents with experimenting in my mixing bowls.
Why so much cooking lately? A larger kitchen (I was always discouraged from the small 3 foot counter space I had before), living with less kitchen gadgets, saving money, and reading the book, The Art of Eating In. It's an inspiring book about Cathy Erway, blogger turned author. She experimented eating in New York City, where the abundance of restaurants are available on almost every block. She didn't give directions on how to eat in exactly, but she told her story and that was enough for me to change the way I viewed my kitchen and eating habits.
Just like Erway, I've come to appreciate where my food is coming from, and how much amount of salt/sugar/flour/love/frustration goes into each bite. Sometimes I really love it, sometimes it's out of convenience because I'm too lazy to put on pants and go out, and sometimes, I really do resent the process. But when I fork down that ridiculously indulgent salmon en croute for example, I forget the work I have, or even the chill draft from being pantless (omg, just try it already), emails or anything on my mind.
I used to think eating out was such a luxury, but after doing it for years, it's a habit I'm trying to break for Scott and I. Not only are our conversations more fulfilling, but so are our tummies. That's the ultimate luxury (besides the no-pants thing, of course). You can follow the culinary joys and failures on instagram.