Yesterday, I had a crappy day. A REALLY crappy day. I sat here at this desk all day long and banged my head against JavaScript. JavaScript won. It SUCKED. Nothing worked at all. I felt like a total failure.
I have been told in the past that for many, cooking is theraputic. For me, this has never really been the case. I never feel like I have enough hands, and I make a huge mess, and I can never get everything done at the same time. But I decided to give it a shot last night, and make a marinara sauce using the fresh herbs that John brought in to work. In addition to not having enough hands, I also don’t have enough bowls. So I took myself to Williams-Sonoma after work and bought some. The smallest one is 6oz. It’s adorable. Yes, I think bowls are adorable. I’m wierd, I know.
So you know what happened? It actually WORKED. I went home, I lit a bunch of candles, turned on the radio, and opened a bottle of wine. Then I put each ingredient into one of my new set of bowls (there are 11 of them). I felt like Martha Stewart. I chopped my own herbs, minced garlic, made salad dressing with a whisk. And what was really amazing to me was I started thinking like a real cook. I found myself thinking, “the salad isn’t quite done — the pasta can hold for a couple of minutes”. And not measuring precisely. And not feeling rushed. That was the best part — I was doing it for the sake of doing it, not to eat. So it didn’t matter when I finished. What a great feeling.
Then Steve came by after he got back to town, and since he couldn’t go to Mozart’s with me for cheesecake (or eat marinara, which I had offered previously), he brought the cheesecake to me instead. So he had a glass of wine, and some cheesecake, and we chatted. It was very soothing. My mother, incidentally, has convinced herself that I am going to marry Steve. I think it’s funny. Poor mom. I suppose I should reassure her, as I have no intention of marrying anyone anytime soon, but watching her fret is just so darn cute.
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