Notes from a Cooking Slump
On letting go and sitting in the discomfort of the unknown
I’ve been thinking lately about how it feels like I’ve been in a years long cooking slump. I still cook, almost everyday, because we have to eat, but the enthusiasm I used to have for it comes and goes like an unreliable friend. If I hadn’t been keeping a food journal for almost a decade I might be able to convince myself I haven’t cooked anything noteworthy since before the pandemic. But words don’t lie, nor do pictures, so according to myself I’ve made some pretty spectacular things these last few years. Like this blueberry cornmeal tart.
Part of me holds onto the idea that I’ll eventually feel about cooking the way I used to, but I’m not sure what that means anymore. I am not the same person I was before I had to start over in a place I never thought I’d live again, and it’s taken me some time to realize that. Recently though I ran into a friend from high school who I hadn’t seen in twenty-five years, and the way we connected like no time had past, like we were sixteen again driving around town talking shit trying to avoid going home, it made me wonder, is it that I’m not the same person I used to be, or that I’m becoming the person I’ve always been?
All the things I love and hold dear to me I discovered while I was in high school — photography, nature, writing, food. Photography was my meditation, the quiet of the darkroom my solace. Nature gave me a place to breathe when I was feeling suffocated by religion. Writing helped me understand myself when no one else did. And a curiosity about food that was sparked when I began working at a Jewish deli, has since morphed into a deep love of cooking.
Over the years these hobbies have become the pillars of my creative foundation, I’m grateful I never abandoned them. There have certainly been ebbs and flows, especially having a baby and restarting a life, at times I’ve had to be okay with not knowing if I’ll ever want to pick up my camera again or if a recipe will inspire me like it used to. I’ve had to trust that when all the old tricks don’t work to get myself out of a rut, sitting in the discomfort of the unknown is probably the best course of action.
Genuine interests have a way of coming back around and one of the nice things about getting older is seeing that pattern. Life is not linear, sometimes you have to let go to allow space for a new path to open up, to wade in the murky waters until the tiniest shred of clarity makes itself known. I have felt disconnected from most of my hobbies the past few years, but as I look at these photos of food I cooked when I thought I was at my lowest cooking-wise, it’s a good reminder — if this is what a cooking slump looks like, I guess I’m doing alright.