“Why do you like cooking so much?”
This is a question that has been asked by different people with different tone in different situations. On one fine evening when I was having lunch with some friends, the question came up in a subtly condescending manner. The tone implied the refusal to comprehend: why do I voluntarily forgo such labour intensive work? Why don’t I spend that time reading, studying and doing something more ‘valuable’?
My kitchen is in full motion right now. Half of thick autumn yellow pumpkin, free of clinging seeds. is being steamed, making a gentle hissing sound. My first ever kombucha is burping and growing day by day, cosily wrapped around an electric blanket in the dark cupboard. The tiramisu mixture I just made for the first time all by myself (it is a full-on arm workout, for those who may have not yet tried) is waiting for Pedro. When he comes, we will dip the charming ladyfingers in icy cold coffee with tint of kahula. As if these are not enough, a potful of red beans are being soaked, ready to be made into red bean paste.
These are the cynical questions that dragged me to the puddle of guilt whenever I took a breather from the fun chaos of the kitchen.
1. Why do you want to cook when you can use your brain?
2. Do you want to be a housewife for the rest of your life?
3. Why don’t you work on something more ‘respected’ or ‘productive’, like programming, writing a paper or teaching?
4. What happened to your big grand ambition?
5. Don’t you want to be ‘successful’?
(6. Can you not do it in your free time? Must it be an ‘occupation’?)
You get the gist. Of course, all these questions are being asked (inside my head) under the assumption that working in the kitchen is somehow lowly and plebeian. Such assumption, hidden in my subconscious somewhere should be interrogated. I have put the words that demand in- depth explanation in quotation marks. They are the key words that will clarify my attitude towards my innate passion for the subject.
I used the word ‘subject’ precisely because I cannot quite pinpoint yet what it is about cooking I fervently enjoy. Besides the actual process of using my body to create a concoction of various ingredients, I also devour literature on food. I can listen to audio recordings by Ruth Reichl for the whole day, chuckling at her brutal honesty and ornate yet down- to- earth descriptions of every food in her work. Writings by Mark Bittman, the Minimalist, are also other source of inspiration, with his fervent advocation of home cooking and healthy diet. I am just about to embark on the journey led by M.F.K. Fisher, after reading that she was Reichl’s heroine. I only read a few pages of ‘Art of Eating’, and it already seems exciting. Furthermore, I love hosting and throwing parties for guests who appreciate my creation. So I am yet to discover along the way where my precise passion lies. Is it cooking delicious yet provocative food? Is it writing about anything and everything to do with food? Is it advocating home- cooking with more personal and intimate approach to each individual’s diet? Is it hosting and creating the ambience of coziness that many people find comfortable and welcoming? Can it be all? As you can see, the opening question ‘why do I like cooking so much?’ was the very tip of the iceberg. Well, one has to start somewhere of the iceberg, so the tip may be a good place to start.
I love cooking because it is just so fun. The tactile sensualness I get from holding a fresh cold chicken breast, hearing the crisp sound of dicing purple onion, watching a flowing pool of egg yolks that are beaten, safe in a impeccably white bowl… Cooking is a pure sensual pleasure. Of course there are less joyful moments, like burning my finger from an overheated pan, or tasting inedible piece of kimchi that was over-salted by miles. Still, even these moments are part of the fun, as they push you to appreciate a very well- done tiramisu.
I love cooking because it gives me a sense of purpose. When I deal with various fresh and frozen ingredients, I am as close as I can get with the fundamentals that make my body and soul. As Bittman once said, home cooking is something everyone can have direct control, unlike global warming or economic depression. That is why I enjoy my regular grocery trips, because cooking begins from markets: selecting ingredients that will compose my body. It is up to me how much sugar or salt guacamole or banana bread has. Such agency over the fundamentals of food gives me the flexibility over flavour, unlike the too- sweet, too- dry banana bread from a supermarket which I had no say in the making process whatsoever.
I love cooking because it is an act of creation. An act of creation that yields the creation shared by many. We who create something we really love, whether it is a piece of music, a fully repaired car or a website, share the immense fulfilment. The fulfilment comes when we see that abstract something in our heads realise into something tangible, something real. I baked my first bread a few days ago, and the fulfilment that rose inside me when I saw the end product was extremely satisfying. The process towards such fulfilment starts humble: the warm gooey touch from kneading of the bread, the awe at seeing slowly but surely swelling bread by the magical process of fermentation, the wonderful smell of baking bread, these all accumulate to the climax. With all the five senses working in full swing, I floated around the kitchen in the growing fulfilment, counting seconds for the bread to complete. When the bread was finished and I caught the glimpse of glowing breads in the oven, I experienced the fulfilment at its fullest.
Who said the ‘art consists of limitation’? I disagree, because the moment I had my first bite of the bread, the fulfilment which I thought reached its peak grew by a few more inches. Soft, gentle flour was waltzing with sweet red beans in my mouth, using my tongue as a stage. Furthermore, when I saw Pedro and his family enjoying every bite of the home-made bread, the fulfilment grew even more!
So let’s go back to the questions.
1. Why do you want to cook when you can use your brain?
I would argue that cooking WELL is an intellectually vigorous task. To cook well, you have to understand the nature of every ingredient and the harmony different concoction will create. Creating something inherently requires the engagement of brain.
2. Do you want to be a housewife for the rest of your life?
Nope.
3. Why don’t you work on something more ‘respected’ or ‘productive’, like programming, writing a paper or teaching?
Who decides which work is more ‘respected’ or ‘respectable’?
Since the conventionally desired profession changes over time, (with the exception of medical and legal professions, neither of which are my passion) I will have to go with my gut: food and education.
4. What happened to your big grand ambition?
Sorry, what was my grand ambition? I don’t remember. You’ll have to remind me.
5. Don’t you want to be ‘successful’?
What do you mean by ‘success’? For me, it is waking up everyday so excited to do what I love, and making best of the opportunity and resources around me. I would like to be the “best” for my certain area of expertise, but since I have not yet decided the area I want to ‘specialise’ in, I cannot elaborate on this point.
6. Can you not do it in your free time? Must it be an ‘occupation’?
Why divide up the time into ‘free-time’ and ‘occupation’? These words have implied polarity underneath: former implying positivity and fun, while the latter insinuating mandatory, negative and not-so-fun nature. I do not think such white-and-black attitude towards how to spend one’s time is healthy. I am not quite sure if I want to take up cooking professionally, but I choose to devote every single minute of my precious time doing what I love. In short, ‘FUN EVERY DAY!’