Out of all my hobbies, cooking stands out as my pride and joy; the “Crème de la crème,” if you will.  The ability to discover new flavor combinations and improve your recipes time and time again is a reward like no other. Cooking is a science, and what it’s taught me is more valuable than any other hobby of mine. 

Perfection

There is no perfect meal. To say something is perfect is a dead end: there is no room for imagination, innovation, or ingenuity. What I’ve learned from cooking is that no matter how good you think something is, it can be better. There’s always something to add or subtract from your recipes, and those differences may end up branching off into entirely different dishes. In my case, I have two different ways I like to make calamari. Each recipe was created with the mindset that I could always improve or modify it, to the point where they became completely different meals altogether. This mentality of constant improvement doesn’t end with cooking; rather, cooking has taught me that I can always improve. If I hadn’t realized the flaws of my first calamari dish, I would never have made the second. Like the dishes you create, you’re never going to be perfect, and that’s normal. Take pride in the fact that there is always room to grow. 

Ingenuity

To make a good meal is to understand what makes it good. As intimidating as it may seem, knowing which combinations of foods, seasonings, and sauces work well together is vital to your success. Cooking is a medium to put your creativity into, so take advantage of that. Trial and error is normal, and I would encourage it. Try and try over and over again to find what works and look closely at what doesn’t. In my calamari experience, I started simple by pan-cooking a blend of paprika, garlic powder, salt, and pepper into the calamari. It was delicious, but inconsistent. I noticed that there was always seasoning stuck to the pan, having fallen off the calamari, and some chunks of calamari were chewier than others. I slicked the pan with butter instead of olive oil. This gave it a nice buttery flavor and helped the seasonings to stick, yet it felt greasier, and the butter flavor overpowered the paprika. Though paprika and butter do work in tandem, it seemed they would work even better if I separated the two. I brainstormed, thinking of a way to revolutionize this recipe of mine, and then it hit me. The carton of portabella mushrooms in my fridge isn’t getting used anytime soon, and neither is the half-squeezed lemon. I workshopped the two together with calamari over several trials: dicing the mushrooms into small chunks, zesting and squeezing the lemon, tossing them into a mixing bowl where I combined the three ingredients. With a diced clove of garlic and a pinch of salt, and pepper, my masterpiece was almost complete. Yet this time, I wanted to shake things up even further. I threw butter into the pan and turned the heat up to max; this time, I was sautéeing over pan-frying. By sauteeing, the calamari took on a golden brown color, and it made the interior soft and tender. The mushrooms were an incredible touch, arguably outshining the calamari due to the rich lemon flavor they absorbed. The lemon zest added a kick of flavor while not overpowering the rest of the dish. If not for the ingenuity I experienced here, I would never have improved upon the shortcomings of the first dish. This ingenuity carries on into my life as I work through problems I face. I face these challenges the same way I do a recipe: what are the shortcomings, what can I control, and what can I improve upon. In this mindset, I am always successful in that even if my plans do not succeed, I have always learned something.

Independence

I was a hungry kid, and still am, but my parents couldn’t make food for me at a second’s notice whenever I got hungry. I took matters into my own hands, starting small with the humble box mac and cheese. Reading the instructions on the side of the box, I carefully followed each step, making sure I got it perfectly right. Yet there was something that wasn’t on the box I neglected to remember: don’t make a giant mess of the kitchen. I got the cheese powder everywhere, and I vividly remember it even years later. surveying the chaos on my kitchen counter that I had created. Mess aside, I had made food for myself, by myself, and that was one of the most fulfilling moments of my early childhood. To this day, I still feel in a similar way when I make a meal. The satisfying fulfillment that comes with making a beautiful, delicious meal stems from independence. The feeling of doing something amazing without assistance is an amazing feeling that I am forever grateful for realizing its value so young. As I transition from high school to college, I grow more thankful for this understanding of the importance every day. It’s reassuring to know that when I leave for college, I know that I can take care of myself. I can thank cooking for that.

Conclusion

I am thankful for cooking and all that it has taught me. The acceptance of improvement, creativity through ingenuity, and self-sufficiency in independence will all continue to assist me in the next stages of my life. Yet I encourage you to do the same; pick up your pot and pan and make something. Even if it’s as simple as my humble box mac and cheese, you don’t have to be a good cook to make a good meal. We all start somewhere, so get your feet wet and get to cooking.