Cooking as Resistance

Four years and a couple months ago, I found myself in quite a state:

I could barely walk.

And yet, I remember shuffling about the kitchen, prepping vegetables, thawing salmon, setting up the rice to cook on the stovetop. It would be oven-roasted fish and vegetables to reduce the amount of time I needed to stand.

Still, I stuck with it when ordering delivery would have been so much simpler.

And it was delicious.

To the point that I remember that evening well after things improved. I’m not sure I’ll ever taste salmon that good again, no matter how good the chef or how esteemed the restaurant. Not because I did anything special. I stuck to the basics: salt, pepper, olive oil.

But because it was a silent vow that no matter how bad it got, I wouldn’t let the demons and the dread take this away from me.

So, fast forward to August this year, and I’m in pain once again. Not quite as bad, but still debilitating. I had allowed myself in the years since to lose some of that cooking ability, mainly thanks to a job that kept me working at all hours so I never felt like I had time to cook.

Coming into 2024, buoyed by symbiotic desires to save money, lose weight, lower blood pressure, and rebuild my cooking skills, I had gotten back into the habit.

Still, when every shift of my knee could bring a new spike of pain, it would have been so easy to let all that progress slide again. I already had an Uber Eats subscription.

But I didn’t. I once again turned to the basics. Eggs with butter, salt, pepper, oregano, and cheese. Everything bagels in the toaster. Avocados that would otherwise have overripened and been thrown out sliced and layered over top. Bacon pan fried with the splatter guard that I had bought four years ago when lockdown first pushed me to expand my cooking skills.

Nothing that would make Bobby Flay cry, but a hearty meal to keep spirits up that I couldn’t help but take a picture of to commemorate this moment.

Was it as good as the salmon? No, but salmon will always kick ass. Not fair to put simple eggs up against that, despite the accoutrements of avocado and bacon.

I’m also pleased to report that symptoms improved much faster than four years ago and are mostly under control today.

To that end, I made naan pizzas last night. Pretty good, and easy. I’m trying to find more recipes like that this year so that I have even less excuses to order out.

Would I have stuck with it had I not stayed the course during the greatest test in recent memory? Perhaps, but I’m fully committed now. If he could do it then, why can’t I do it now? Any excuse crumbles at that thought.

And now, armed with a rice cooker, I look forward to making larger and even grander meals in 2025. Next year, I’ll probably ask for a slow cooker for Christmas. Great way to meal prep without having to hover over a stove.

I don’t know what the future will bring, but I know this:

The sense of pride when the meal is complete and the smell is alluring cannot be beat. The pride of using up produce versus throwing it out because it has spoiled is a reward all its own. And the sense of security seeing leftovers in the fridge keeps me calm.

I knew it back then. I rediscovered it this year.

And I don’t plan to forget it ever again.