Prologue: I wrote this post on May 18, 2020. I decided to go ahead and share it, hoping you’ll find some solidarity in its lines.
Cooking in quarantine is a new frontier. My meals mainly consist of what’s in the fridge and needs to be used. Most of the time, without a recipe, on-the-fly and not particularly picture perfect. The results wholly dependent on how mentally present I am, how hungry I am and whether or not what I’m making aligns with what I actually want to eat.
There’s been a few failed meals the past week. Bread that was all but inedible, a testament to cooking without any dedicated bread tools and in an electric oven that lacks a circulating fan. That bread became bread pudding, a recipe I worked and typed up to share, that was so underwhelming I can’t share it with confidence. A broth made from pork bones that contained so much fat it solidified as it cooled in the fridge. And a batch of homemade apple cider vinegar that grew a layer of white mold. Each one something I’ve successfully accomplished in months past, without incident.
A string of unsuccessful cooking ventures is not what you share on Instagram. And yet I feel I must share it.
Why? Because if I am dedicated to anything, its authenticity. I will not pretend everything I make comes out picture perfect. It’s just not true.
Especially now, when so many of us are simply cooking for survival. Trying to find new ways to transform the ingredients we have on hand into something tasty, nutritious and appetizing. To provide our families with economical sustenance that feeds their bodies and their souls.
In this climate, it’s no easy feat.
So sometimes, its okay to have a failed experiment. It’s okay to try something new and not like it. It happens. We are human. This is the core of our authenticity. Yes, we are flawed, but we possess an uncanny ability to proverbially dust ourselves off and try again. This is called resilience. And we are all developing deeper resilience each day we live in a new world, where each day brings new uncertainty and fear spreads as rapid as the sickness itself. What do we do in the face of this? What must we do? Persist. Simply, adapt and persist.
I’m here to be an open book. And this is how I do it. To assure you that no matter what winds up on the table right now, it’s a blessing and it is enough. If you don’t have time to make Instagram-worthy dinners every night, rest assured, neither do I. And that’s okay. Because we’re in it together, and that’s what counts.
Questions? Comments? I’m available on Facebook, Instagram and by email at firstname.lastname@example.org