Today I'm sharing three things I'm learning lately about food and cooking.
Food takes time. It's my new motto. I have always known this in my mind, but this is the first year I have begun to accept it. Good food simply takes time, from seed to table. I have spent a lot of years resenting the fact that certain people in my life need to eat actual meals every single live long day. I've begun to accept that planning and preparing for these things simply must be a part of my life, much as the details of working it out perplex and confound me, and I'd so much rather be doing something else.
With that said, this year I also learned: It is perfectly acceptable to take a pizza to a family with a new baby. In addition to planning meals, bringing in meals is not my forte. I do want to make a gesture to show I care, but putting a meal together is not a very natural way for me to do it. Enter the pizza! I checked with the family first-- and since they afterwards asked us to be the baby's godparents, I guess the pizza thing was okay with them.
When in doubt, thaw some broth and dice an onion. It's the beginning to many lovely things, and sometimes the hardest thing is just starting.
What sorts of things took you ten years (or fewer) to figure out in the kitchen?