Can versus do

[pbray]

I made chili today, using my new crockpot. Those who know me well will know what a milestone this was.

I don't normally cook. That doesn't mean that I can't, just that I don't.

Or rather I didn't.


When I was in college, I shared a house with three roommates and we all took turns cooking. I turned out to be a good cook (and a better baker.)

When I left college I originally started off trying to make dinner each night, but the difference between cooking for four people and one person is huge. There was dealing with leftovers, not to mention a punishing schedule that meant I never knew if I would be home at a reasonable hour or so late that I didn't feel like cooking. I grew used to buying fresh food that went bad before I had time to cook it, and gradually stopped cooking meals. (Buy me a drink at a con and I'll tell you about the green spaghetti sauce that was left in a refrigerator as payback for someone who'd annoyed me.)

I migrated to eating frozen dinners, and after some experimentation I found a few that I could stand. And that's how I lived for over a decade. I was always grateful when someone made me a homemade meal, and would cheerfully cook dinner when I was staying with friends who had stocked kitchens, but if you came to my house, you'd find only soup and cereal in the pantry.

Then two and a half years ago I gave up eating frozen dinners. Cold turkey, so to speak. I started to make a few different meals at home. Nothing fancy, whole wheat pasta with sauce from a jar, black beans and brown rice mixed with salsa, etc. I had four dishes in rotation, but I've gradually outgrown these. (Note that pasta with marinara sauce is something that I could eat every day for a month and be happy, if I wasn't vaguely concerned that I ought to be getting a little variety.)

So today I made chili, one of my favorite foods. Vegetarian black bean chili to be precise, and it came out well for a first try. There were leftovers naturally, so I know what I'll be having for dinner for the next three nights. Which was the plan, since I have to work the next few nights.

I talked to a couple of friends this afternoon, who were surprised to hear that I was at home cooking. They think of me as someone who doesn't cook, and assume this means I can't--that I'd need advice on how to boil water or use a measuring cup.

It's not that I can't cook--I'm perfectly capable of it, including a traditional New England Thanksgiving spread (as a Sullivan on my mother's side, turkey is part of my base operating system.) But I just don't cook-- I don't enjoy it the way that so many of my friends and family do. Sometimes when my sister calls to share one of her culinary discoveries, or I read my friendslist as they recount the meals they've made, I'm in awe of their talents. And I wish that I lived closer so I could invite myself over to share the fruits of their labors :-)

But that's not me. Oddly enough, as I count through my friends and family, almost all of them enjoy cooking. So it's clear that I just need to invite myself over to their homes more often.

And perfect that chili recipe, so I can return the favor. Or possibly a stew--it's heading towards winter in these parts, and there's nothing better for a winter night than a good stew and a nice red wine.

Comments

[pbray.livejournal.com]

Oddly enough, when my father started living on his own he became very interested in cooking and took classes at the community college in French cooking. He loved to cook and would often call me up at work to talk about what he was making that day.