In November 2020, I wrote about how cooking was an emotional outlet for me. How in the pandemic, the repetitive practices and experimentation sustained my creativity and kept me level.
This year, I fell in love with cooking again. As I often do. Repeatedly. Re-inspired. Living alone, I decided to explore what food preparation meant to me, trialled nutrition and diet changes, and catered more for friends than I had in the previous 28 years.
Mary Berry is quoted saying
“Cooking and baking is both physical and mental therapy”
and this year, specifically in my new trial with bread making, I deeply felt this sentiment.
I connect with people through food. Cooking is, and always has been, my love language. In 2023, I discovered it was my self-love language. It encourages my creativity. It’s my meditation. And, I’m fucking good at it.
In an era of keto-matcha-fasting-gluten-intolerent-dairy-free-soon-we’ll-eat-nothing-but-bugs fads, I urge you to get into the kitchen and experiment with what works for you. I eat every food group. I’m not scared of portion sizes or cravings, because I know my body. I know food. Salt, Fat, Acid, Heat. I cook good food. Good for body and soul.
If you’re a book person, buy Happy Food by Niklas Ekstedt and Henrik Ennart. Of all the foodie books I’ve read, this one taught me the most about food culture and nutrition, and helped me learn how to listen to what my body, and mind, needs.
I don’t tend to follow recipes, so I can only attempt to make you salivate with my foodie images with no help on how to re-create your own. But, I’ve promised my family I’ll start writing my methods down and will share once I put this home cookbook together (eventually).
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