The Creative Act of Cooking

There are few things in the world that never feel like a waste of time. I always think,

“I should be cleaning”

“I should be illustrating”

“I should be working out”

But when I’m cooking, there’s nothing else in the world I should be doing. 

The art of cooking uniquely blends structure and creativity. There’s something soothing about following a recipe, step by step. Even better if I know it from memory. But then there’s freedom. Shaping and spicing a recipe until it becomes your own. I almost always double the spices. 

When people say they don’t like to cook, it catches me off guard. And I think they must be doing it wrong. There’s so much more to creating meals than just surviving. Even if you’re the picture of efficiency or sticking closely to your budget.

There’s the responsible feeling of crafting and sticking to a grocery list that makes you feel like you have your life together. The unrushed pace strolling the produce aisle, like you’re in the first act of a cozy romantic comedy set in New York before the love interest shows up. There’s the beauty of picking up whole foods and feeling like the cashier will be proud of you when you check out because you have kale and carrots in your cart.

Coming in the door and sorting groceries on the counter, there’s the subtle pat on the back that you pushed past the temptation to just order food. Then later in the week when you order food, you know you earned it. 

Maybe sometimes you have to set the scene to get excited about cooking. Having music on in the background is a must for me. I’ll turn on Indian music for chicken tikka masala, Italian dinner music for zuppa toscana, and Japanese indie for poke bowls. It’s jazz for most anything else. Unless I’m overseas and jazz music makes me miss home too much. Then I turn on something a little less close to the soul. 

And all this is just the prelude: the lead-up to the beauty of transforming colorful vegetables, rich coconut milks, and seasonal fruits into memories. There’s the ritual of checking the recipe card relentlessly even when you know the recipe by heart. The slight unknown of how the recipe will turn out, hanging on the ripeness of the food and the humidity in the air. There’s the orderly rhythm of checking off each item one by one. And the journey of mixing and testing new spices that you never fully arrive at. 

Then the smells. The onions simmer in the pan with ghee. Dough rises in the oven. Paprika and garam masala shake hands with the garlic. Boiling pasta water. And something in the home is right. 

Even when it turns out differently than expected, which is inevitable even for the most trusty recipes, you made the house more of a home.

Then you get to enjoy the fruit of your labor. 

You nourish yourself and others around you. 

There’s hardly a better feeling than cooking for other people, and knowing you’ve tangibly cared for both yourself and someone else. 

Even if you only have 3 recipes, don’t miss the magic of cooking. The invitation every day to make something that will bring joy. Not only in the finished product, but in the process. In the time off a screen, working with your hands, appreciating real ingredients, and the act of waiting for a timer to go off. Fight through the empty promise of convenience, even if just every once in a while, to dig into your creative side. Experiment, find new favorites, get it wrong, and figure out how to fix recipes well. 

I hope when you look back on this season of life, it’s full of people around your table, plated dishes, and full bellies. Whether as the hallmark of this season or in the margins, there is creative beauty to be forged in messy kitchens.

How can you get creative with cooking this week?