It is strange how much we do not know about the world until we go out and explore it. Granted, there are so many unseen Coliseums, piazzas, canals, and monuments that we might miss if we do not take the opportunity to glance outside. However, there is an even bigger plethora of mundane things that slip from our recollections until we are forced to experience them by ourselves. I recently had the joy of learning one of the everyday skills that we humans take for granted: the art of cooking.
Since I was a little kid, I have been blessed with a mother and an aunt who knew how to cook the most delicious Italian dishes. I remember standing close to the kitchen door and taking peeks at the concoctions they would craft in their magical lab. The counter would constantly be sprinkled in flour like the landscape with snow on an early winter’s morning. The pots and pans would all be simmering like hot springs while the cutlery swished like the wind, slicing through forests of broccolis and cauliflowers. And the smells. The smells of sweet spring bananas, juicy summer blackberries, and succulent winter apples would creep from the kitchen and intoxicate the entire house. Even the sounds were bewitching. My mom’s laughter paired with my aunt’s favorite songs would fuse to bring the liveliest of environments. Together, they would make the art of cooking seem magical and effortless at the same time.
As I grew up, I lost interest in viewing cooking as a superpower and started categorizing it under the profusion of things that were prosaic. Cooking, cleaning the house, washing the clothes, and even going to school were a few of the things I started considering automatic. I would no longer thank my mom and aunt for making such beautiful creations, and instead took them for granted. Going away for college at Rollins, I regained my joy for learning, and I discovered how difficult it was to keep a household clean. I even realized how blue my favorite white shirts could turn inside of the washing machine when incorrectly paired with jeans. However, I did not attain an appreciation for cooking, since I was given a delicious meal plan to munch off. In Maynooth, my whole world turned upside down when I realized I had to create my own dishes to survive.
At first, I thought cooking was going to be piece-of-cake. I rationalized that it even had to come naturally to me, like chirping to a bird. After all, everyone in my family had inherited that art. However, after I dumped the semi green lettuce leaves, the unpeeled grayish carrots, the puny amount of meat, and the kilo of raw potatoes that I bought unto the kitchen counter, I was overwhelmed. What was I supposed to do? I had no recipe, no knowledge of how to properly peel a vegetable, and no magic laughter and music to help me get through it. I didn’t even have the proper devices for cooking or a person back home who was awake that I could call for succor. Without anything to aid me out of the darkness, I threw myself into the void, and the results were marvelous. Some could even say it was love at first sight.
Who am I kidding? The results were a mess. I was able to come up with a batch of overcooked vegetables, a piece of charcoaled meat, and an almost burnt apartment. However, I learned a couple of the most valuable lessons to date. First of all, there is no success without fail. That first dish was horrendous, but with many more failed attempts, it eventually gave way to a perfectly cooked 8 oz steak and some excellent au gratin potatoes. Secondly, creativity and courage are encouraged. Had I not been willing to go blind into cooking, I would have never discovered the beauty of cooking or the millions of different ways to cook an egg. Thirdly, ask for help. Shout for help if needed. There are so many people in your life that have countless recipes of a certain bread their great great grandmother made in the 1800s, as well as tips and tricks to get the very expensive tagliatelle for sale at the nearest store. After messing up my first dish, I called my aunt to let her know I was no longer allowed to be part of her family. Nevertheless, she insisted on helping me with recipes, Facetime calls, and encouraging messages with everything I needed to know in order to create brews that resembled what I ate at home. With time and her help, I was able to branch out from the originals and create my own twists. Finally, never take anything for granted, not even the smallest of things. I will never doubt my mother and aunt’s expertise in cooking, and I will never forget to thank them for teaching me their secrets, serving me perfect foods when I was a kid, and inspiring me to learn as much as I can about the art of cooking. It may not have been love at first sight, but it surely will be my favorite happily ever after.
On a side note, here are a few pictures of what I have been cooking for the last two months in the order in which I have been making them. (Not pictured is my horrible first dish, because I threw it away thinking I was never going to cook again in my life.)