I was playing tennis with a friend two summers ago when the subject of food came up. “I don’t cook at all, “ she laughed, as she served the ball, “because I’m an independent woman. Unless you count eggs? I think I can scramble eggs.” This comment has stayed in the back of my mind for a while now, and re-emerged yesterday morning when I discovered an oven full of dirty dishes in my neighbor’s apartment. Apparently, it is a handy storage space. “How do you eat?” I inquired with alarm. She responded casually, “I order in.” Her roommate chimed in from across the room, “I microwave oatmeal sometimes.”
This is distressing to me. Not that I cook every day at all. I am no saint. But still. A huge part of feeling comfortable in my quickly-growing-up skin has been learning how to throw cold ingredients together in a sauce pan and produce warm and surprisingly tasty food. So much of feeling like an independent woman has centered on my ability to feed myself, and feed myself well. I hated living on deli sandwiches and take-out sushi and my campus’s cafeteria selections. I hated eating at the whim of other people’s menus, at the whim of which pasta entrée was the least expensive, which egg option came with the most free stuff (just hashbrowns, or hashbrowns + toast?).
I started cooking two summers ago, when my boyfriend had an apartment kitchenette all to himself, and was living in a part of Brooklyn that offered only one form of take-out meal (think jerk chicken, every night). Going to a restaurant required about 45 minutes of commuting each way, and the slow evening heat made us lazy. So, we tried to cook. It happened in pieces: he would pick up some zucchinis from Trader Joe’s on his way home from work, I would tuck a head of lettuce or cluster of cucumbers in my back-pack as I left for his place. We usually made versions of the same thing: chopped vegetables in a big pan with oil and sauce. It was hard at first: he treated hot sauce like a best friend, while I found the overly lip-numbing sensations to be both nauseating and painful. We couldn’t figure out how to get the rice to not stick angrily to the bottom of the pot. For a while, everything kind of tasted the same. But he learned to slather on the sriracha after the food was plated, and I got better at remembering when to stir things. Then one morning he woke up really early, pretending to shower, and surprised me with an elaborate (and slightly burnt) vegetable scramble and hash browns. It was a beautiful morning. The sun was falling in bright slats across the apartment, and there we were, wearing our boxers and feasting on cooked eggs and potatoes. It was like everything magical about diners, but transported to his bedroom floor.
The farthest we got that summer were home-made breakfast burritos, but it didn’t really matter, because we were cooking food for ourselves, and there was something about it that always felt exciting and real. Like an exotic foray into this other world: one filled with 9 a.m. commutes to “work,” shared pillows, and exhausted evenings spent watching the street-life through his “bay” windows (read: slightly above-average sized windows that the landlord insisted were the real deal). While feasting on stir fry with peanut sauce. And cooking continues to be a lovely feeling. Hustling around the kitchen with my knives flashing, trying to get everything into the pan at the right time, while fire droplets dance to the soft sounds of oil sighing. Don’t make fun of me—it is as poetic as it sounds.
Which is why I devised this list of reasons why you should start cooking too. I know that the “local” food movement is currently the butt of all jokes (cough cough Portlandia) and I agree that “gently massaged kale” is bourgey and frivolous. But I don’t think that is grounds to dismiss thoughtful eating as a “bourgey and frivolous” activity. Food politics are real and important, and they affect us all on a daily basis, whether we realize it or not. If we think about ourselves as a collection of the things we are surrounded by, then it becomes impossible to overlook the importance of the things that we construct our bodies with i.e. food. Feeding yourself thoughtfully doesn’t mean becoming vegan. Cooking every once in a while doesn’t mean never ordering in again. But it does mean taking your dishes out of your oven and learning how to roast some root vegetables.
These are reasons why you should cook:
- To all my feminist lady (and man) friends: cooking is not synonymous with female oppression. The reason for connecting female oppression with the kitchen is because, when we were all wifed up in the 50’s, we were forced to cook for our families. There is an important distinction between cooking for yourself and slaving away in the kitchen all day so your emotionally distant man can be well-fed. Nota Benne: Please, do not do the latter.
- Additionally, is it really that empowering to have to rely on other people every time you want to eat? Eating is something that we have to do every day. It is one of the most essential things we must do to survive. And you’re trying to tell me that by not knowing how to feed yourself, you are an independent woman?
- Most of the time, the food you cook for yourself is healthier for you. Restaurants make food so they can sell it. Food is sold if it tastes really really good. There are two ways to make good food: cook it well or put a lot of shit in it. Most restaurants are lazy and opt for the short cut. It’s really not worth relying on someone else’s ingredient list. Example? There is never an excuse for using Crisco or corn syrup when you bake cookies, yet somehow that shit is in almost all store-bought cookies.
- Cooking is a really great way to wind down after a stressful day. One of my favorite post-test activities is sitting at my kitchen table with a Songza Today’s Indie Dance Hits playlist (if you tell anyone I listen to that, I’ll kill you) while cutting up potatoes for soup. P.S. Soup is very therapeutic to make. Go make some soup.
- Cooking is a really great social activity. Think about it: you get to sit and hang out with your friends, while also being productive. Imagine that, Martin Luther.
- You’ll also save money ($$$$ !!!)
- Your parents will think you are really mature, and they might like you more
- There is an element of creativity and spontaneity in cooking that I find really enjoyable. It took a while for me to wean off of my cookbooks, but it has been quite a ride since. There’s an indescribably primal thrill that occurs when I open my refrigerator door, eyesight heightened as I scavenge the shelves for potential ingredients. Sort of like a modern twist of both hunting AND gathering, albeit without any of the chasing-after-animals-with-arrows things (okay, so not such a great metaphor, but whatever.)
The point is that cooking has gotten a really bad rap the past fifty years, but is actually really awesome and easy, and you should give it a whirl.
Who knows, you might just actually enjoy it.
