For the Love of Feeding Myself

Today I'm thinking about why feeding ourselves is so difficult when it's one of our most basic survival needs. I'm thinking about why cooking is something I can't get myself to do often even though I can geek out about it forever and find so much peace in the process.

I guess it's no secret that our industrialized, busy, fast-paced, technologized society hasn't exactly set us up for spending hours in the kitchen, as our ancestors used to. But why does it feel like such a chore when eating is such a pleasure?

(Eating is not always a pleasure, not when you feel limited in what you can eat or are afraid of food or mad at food or feel guilty about food—not when your relationship with food is not friendly. But this is a topic for another time, and right now, if you feel those things, imagine your freest moments, when eating can feel pleasurable.)

I think there are a few reasons cooking feels like a big to-do that we don't want to do.

First, there is the element of time. If you have been working all day, your stomach interrupts you to tell you there is a limited amount of minutes before alarms start ringing. This is no time for cooking—you need food, now.

Second, there is the element of money. Food can be expensive, and ingredients even more so! Ready-made food, whether packaged or carried out, seems cheaper—and often is.

Third, there is the element of know-how. Cooking can be intimidating if you're not sure what you're doing (and sometimes even when you are sure). It seems best to leave it to the experts.

Are there other reasons? Certainly. But these loom overhead as the Big Three.

I have felt all of these reasons, and I have given into feeding myself with no effort of preparing food plenty of times. There are times when these surrenders are small, sporadic blips, and times when they are part of a larger season in life. But no matter. They exist.

And yet, I find myself continuing to get back on the soapbox and pull myself back into the kitchen. Sometimes it is for love of cooking, but not always.

I pull myself back into the kitchen in spite of the Big Three. There is something deeper that helps me overcome them:

First, when you believe in something, you make time for it. I believe in the act of cooking. I believe in an older way of life, one connected more closely to the earth and to nature. I believe that the best things do take time. I've tasted food that is made in a rush and I've tasted food that has been given the time to be attended to carefully. Making time to cook leads to more satisfying, pleasureful food.

Making time isn't easy, but it helps to think ahead. It helps to think about what I'm craving, or what video I've seen recently that made me want to try a new food, or a recipe I saw that I want to try. Most of writing is pre-writing, aka planning and thinking. The same applies to cooking. When I visualize the food I want to eat before I'm hungry, I have time to go grab ingredients, or invite a friend over, or put on some music and make cooking into an activity instead of a chore.

Second, cooking doesn't have to be totally expensive. There are ways to be smart about what ingredients you buy and how much food you make at a time that lead to less waste. There are plenty of ways to shop to be frugal while buying quality ingredients.

But I also want to advocate for spending money on ingredients. The same way investing time into cooking is worth it, so is investing money into stocking your fridge. Eating is something we must do multiple times every day; why would we not want to feed ourselves with quality food? Besides, health is directly related to the food we eat. When we cut corners on food ingredients that have been cheapened in quality in order to be cheaper in price, we make up the difference of savings in doctor bills and medication. For me, investing in food preparation is worth it, even if I'm choosing what to pay more for and where to compromise in quality.

Finally, while totally valid, I think it's a bit silly to let a lack of know-how stop you in the kitchen. I know there is very real frustration in the kitchen—when all the time and money you invested leads to a disaster or something less than satisfying. But when you don't let that stop you, you learn how to improvise, and make substitutes, and correct for mistakes, and eventually the disasters dwindle in number and gravity.

There are so many resources in today's world that you don't need to feel alone in your kitchen! With recipe blogs, longer YouTube videos, quick TikToks, and 8 gajillion cook books out there, you really have all you need to start and/or keep learning. I personally use Google multiple times each time I cook, looking up ingredient substitutes or extra instructions or advice. You really know more than you think you do—and you don't really need to know everything to make meals that taste and feel great!

I suppose at the end of the day, it is more of a love of feeding myself that brings me back to the kitchen after slumps. I know how my body feels when I invest in it, and when I set aside time to prepare a meal that I've been looking forward to eating, the experience becomes intensified and the satisfaction is deepened. Cooking and feeding ourselves are an artform, a way to create new and beautiful things out the rote and boring routines of life.