Cooking is My Yoga

All my closest cohorts say I should give up this performing arts thing and, “just go to culinary school, already!” Ha, there’ s no way that the thing that relaxes me the most is going to become my stressful statistically unsuccessful career.

Why? Because cooking is my yoga, my candle lighting, my bubble bath. My activity that helps me reach a peaceful state of mind.

I know none of the fancy terminology or how to cut vegetables correctly. I mix incompatible spices together (though I wouldn’t know which because … well, did I mention my ignorance on the culinary arts?) I use lots of boxed and canned ingredients. My cleanliness would make Alton Brown cry. Oh, suddenly I have mental images of my own personal cooking show called The Not-So-Pretty Kitchen, but I digress. So, I don’t know a damn about cooking, but for some reason, my taste buds think I’m a natural.

All I know is that when I’m in the kitchen, all the failures of the outside are beyond me. On any given night, I throw some pasta and whatever veggies are in the freezer to boil all in the same pot with a dash of kosher salt. I drizzle some white wine on my skillet. Last minute assignments and romance troubles? On the way to being forgotten! Doused out with a little extra virgin olive oil, that’s right …

A little Ragu there, some melted cheese, Italian seasoning, basil, three different kinds of peppers, two different kinds of garlic spices, milk to keep the sauce from thickening too much. How calming it is to create something out of a bunch of seemingly random ingredients. It’s like Lego’s for adults. What was I worried about again? Mmm, this smells delectable! When the sauce is done, I dump the boiled mix in. Don’t worry, I drain the water out first.

I have no idea what I’m doing or how healthy my cooking is. All I know is that it’s delicious. I’ve made a satisfying meal and forgotten all my anxieties, and I didn’t even have to light a single aromatherapy candle.