I don’t cook particularly complex dishes. I’d be hard pressed to call some of the kitchen catastrophes I’ve choked down dishes in the first place. Dish goes too far, it implies intentionality and artistry that over seasoned eggs, chopped ham and botched fried corn tortilla simply doesn’t embody. Regardless of the quality of what I’ve made standing over my stove however, there’s a kind of calm that cooking brings that cracking open a Union Store sausage, egg and cheese cannot muster.
It’s rare that I feel a connection to such grounded activity; most other acts of bodily maintenance strike me as things that would be better if they could be as streamlined as a pre-made breakfast sandwich. Showers are a daily demon-boxing session, brushing teeth is more messy than I’d like to admit, clipping toenails is a minefield and yet cooking stands apart from them all.
Something as simple as letting the toaster do its thing is enough to transport me to a peaceful realm away from pressing obligation. Hunger fades with the browning, and deadlines pass me by wistfully while I whisk. I know whipping up something I hardly want to eat has made me late on more than a couple of assignments over the years, but there’s something enthralling about the process that I can’t pull away from.
Fiddling around in the kitchen easily fills the same niche in my brain as crafts to some people. You see something you will inevitably dedicate too much time trying to recreate online and make a crappy little thing you will cherish for all of as long as you can remember it. The level of burning knowhow into your body also seems reminiscent, learning from doing as an intricate and calming activity. For some it’s crocheting, for me it’s relearning the one hand crack.
It was a trick I’d first gotten acquainted with in the midst of Hot Lockdown Summer. Between a buddy of mine’s ongoing affair with cooking videos, and the presence of groceries in my house for once, the burgeoning love I was nursing for standing around in my kitchen was cemented the first time I attempted the cook’s most useful parlor trick. I smashed the egg to so many bits I had to pick close to the whole shell out before I could continue.
This was no source of discouragement, however. After all, as the Jake the Dog quote goes “Suckin’ at something is the first step to being sorta good at something.” Thus, for many nights while the rest of the house slept, and while many languished during the height of the pandemic, I started getting halfway decent at cracking eggs one handed. I was experiencing a kind of nimbleness I hadn’t even known when I was playing piano, I was feeling downright dextrous.
To date, I still don’t count any of my cooking knowledge or skills as impressive. From learning, and unlearning via lack of practice, how to crack an egg with one hand, I’ve done nothing so high level since. I still get egg white on my hand when I do it now, I still can’t get an even fry on a substantial batch of homemade corn tortilla chips and I still have the cutting arm of a small child.
Put chicken breast in front of me, and 30 minutes will pass of half trimming, half cubing, because my shoulder can only handle so much strain at once. I’m still not the most responsible with cleaning up, and when I try to soft boil an egg to add to my Top Ramen, I worry about salmonella and throw the whole bowl in the microwave. I’m no chef, even four years into my cooking journey.
I am, however, an enthusiastic, but cautious student. A skill I’ve been sitting on for a semester and a half now I’m still deeply infatuated with is blanching almonds. A process so simple, and so easy to melt into I think it’s part of what allows me to maintain my sanity.
To blanch almonds all you need is a little frying pan, some paper towels, a colander and a timer. Normally you blanch almonds to get rid of the skin, and the nasty digestion messing tannins they carry. I do it to spice up my instant oatmeal. First, you grab however many almonds you have time to shuck into a pan and fill it with water. Then, you bring the water to a boil for exactly 60 seconds before collecting your almonds in your colander.
Still in the colander, you run cold water over the hot almonds, the cooling helps make sure they retain some crunch, and finally you get to shucking. Almonds can be slippery buggers coming out of their skin, so be careful to make sure they don’t fall, and once freed from their skin you’re free to enjoy them however you wish. Hopefully, you too will enjoy having busied your hands with meal prep.