Cooking!

Cooking is a great skill. It's something I've always admired and wanted to do. Unfortunately, I don't have the right constitution for it, for lack of a better term (i.e., I can't think of the term I want to use at the moment). I'm lazy. I couldn't hack the long hours, the energy requirements, the simple demand on my body, psyche, and emotional well-being. Like I said, I like cooking. But the minute you require me to cook? Forget it. I'm out of there. I'm like that with just about everything. I don't like to have to do anything. I have a serious case of havetoitis. I'm so seriously allergic to "have to" that I need to keep an EpiPen handy at all times.

Despite the aforementioned handicap, perhaps the biggest challenge to the idea of me as cook is the simple fact that I cannot smell. Nothing. Nada. Zilch. Skunk? Whatever. Rotten garbage? Could have fooled me. Sour milk? Isn't that called cheese? Perfume? Nope. Bouquet of flowers? Um, nothing. Aroma of layered spices? Again, nothing. I tell you, I can't smell--good or bad. And that's a huge challenge to culinary pursuits. I may be able to cook something tasty from a recipe or on a well-educated guess, or by sheer luck, but there are risks. Something that I find delicious will almost definitely taste differently to others because they get the added benefit of smell. Smell does not account for all of our tasting, as some believe, but it does play an important role.

Food has to look good. Food has to smell good. It even has to feel good--or at least right--to taste good. Texture is often overlooked. One example I like to give has to do with drinking. I had the adult version of a sippy cup that I used to bring to work. It almost always had water in it. Sometimes I'd put iced tea in it, but mostly it was water. One morning at work I picked up my cup and took a long draw on the straw expecting a cool drink of water and nearly vomited on the spot. I had no idea what the hell I had just drunk but it certainly wasn't water. I opened the lid and saw immediately that it was milk. I had poured milk in my cup before leaving the house and simply forgotten that I had done so. But for the life of me, for a million dollars, I would not have been able to tell you I had just had milk in my mouth. I had no idea what it was. But once I knew it was milk, everything was fine. What I had felt in my mouth coincided with my idea of milk. So there are expectations not only of taste and smell, but also of what is referred to as mouthfeel.

I don't know why I'm writing this. I'm reading one of Anthony Bourdain's books because I like cooking and I think he's a good writer. It has me thinking about these things, so I'm writing about them. So, I lied. I guess I do know why I'm writing this. Why I'm sharing it, well, maybe that's what I don't know. Bourdain spends a lot of time talking about the cooking "lifestyle." It's a lifestyle I know I couldn't hack even I had all of the other requirements. Despite all of these things I know I'll continue trying to cook. Not everyone is going to like my concoctions, but some of them will be tasty and that's what counts. I may not be able to recreate any of them but I'll keep making them. When it comes to cooking and eating there's one other big ingredient that I failed to mention and that's a combination of adventure and curiosity. Always be willing to try new and different things. You never know what you're going to like until you try it. You won't like everything you try, but the ones you do like you just might like a whole lot. Who knows? You might even like something I've cooked!