On Cooking

I find cooking therapeutic.  Really, I do.

I like dreaming up edible creations and watching them come to life.  I like being in the kitchen, quiet and contemplative.

The choosing of flavors and foods for removing stress, the chopping and slicing and dicing for getting rid of frustrations, the mixing and stirring and sifting for remembering blessings: this is what being in the kitchen means to me.

A lot of the world's problems can be solved in the kitchen, I think.  At least, I solve a lot of the world's problems, and my own, in the kitchen.

I'm not much for recipes, the tedious measuring of each tablespoon of this and teaspoon of that.  I'm more for a pinch of this and sprinkle of that; it feels more freeing.

The kitchen is where I go to remember where I came from and to be grateful for where I am and to dream of where I'm going next.  The kitchen is where I can be reborn after a long day; the kitchen is where I can celebrate a new triumph.  The kitchen is a place to enjoy life, and cooking is a joy.