Don’t tell the freezer (or the new-ish cooker), but I seem to have gone off cooking. Again.
Call it the changing light, and the possibility of less wintry food. But, more realistically, call it being on kitchen duty for the forseeable future.
Overall, I like food. More accurately, I love food. I love thinking about what to cook, thinking about food shopping, maybe even thinking about new ingredients and recipes.
Maybe it’s the aftermath of the building work. Lots of choices still to make – making choices about food too seems a bit much on top of discovering just how far plaster dust can drift around a room.
Maybe it’s the necessity factor. You can put off cleaning – you can put off washing clothes (for a bit, anyway). But you don’t get to put off eating in the same way – and where there’s eating, there’s often cooking, waiting reproachfully.
Some time back, when I had a full-time job elsewhere, cooking was my evening escape. Being creative, more in the moment, less thinking, more chopping.
Now, cooking is completed at the same time as multiple other tasks. It’s a race to fill small tummies. It’s refuelling the plane, rather than flying it. The view is not the same.
It’ll come good, I’m sure. Â But part of my challenge to myself, just now, is to write where I’m up to. And this is part of it.
Meanwhile, I can think as far as a cup of tea. I don’t think that counts as cooking.