If someone were to ask me what I did in January, I would say: I cooked.
And so I did: systematically, enthusiastically, in big portions … and to be honest: for the first time in my life. I always used to say that I don’t really have time for that. (Which is obviously not true since I enjoy a relative carefree life of a master student in the wonderful city of Berlin and I know a number of mothers with full-time jobs who manage to find time.) Time is there for us for whatever we want and choose to do. And certainly there is always time for potato gratin, spaghetti carbonara or a Marmorkuchen. I tried it myself.
What sparked my enthusiasm so much?
Since I love lists so much, I will try to put my arguments pro cooking in the cold January evenings as follows:
– The smell (or why not odour) of a chicken soup in the kitchen brings your current dwelling one step closer to a real home;
– A cake with dark chocolate glaze can always cheer you up – even if it is freaking cold outside and you can’t remember was it two or three weeks since you actually haven’t seen the sun
– A new dish is like a new small project:
- you do your little research (loads of accessible webpages for wannabe cooks on the Internet);
- you go shopping (with a little list, of course)
- you go home and put some music (Radio Swiss Jazz) or your favourite radio show (Nasso Ruskov on Sofia Live for me) or Arte TV (Long live livestream television!)
- and you go off
- the best part is that you don’t have to wait so much for the result of your little project and if you are lucky (or hungry) enough you might actually eat it;
- having a good company makes it clearly all lovelier and tastier;
Could there be another reason why I have this sudden desire of spending more than the usual 15 minutes in the kitchen? Could it be that I am on the fast train to my thirties?
One could speculate, I guess. I choose not to.
For as far as I heard life is short.. and now I know – tasty too.
