I used to think that I would cook more if I just cooked things that were easy. I ate a lot of McDonalds, because when efficiency is what you use to gauge value, there is someone flipping burgers for you on just about every corner of this city.
I used to tell my roommate that I didn’t cook because I fucking hated washing dishes. Gross dirty food getting watery and mushy, scraping gunk off of gunk off of gunk. Then she said: “I like washing dishes. It’s such a simple solution to a problem. The dishes are dirty, so you wash them and it’s done.”
And I was like, “That’s beautiful,” and left a bowl of half scraped Amy’s Bean Chili-gunk in the sink for 3 days.
I figured I was probably not doing something right, so I’ve been trying something new: cooking things I actually love. It’s going well! I develop an investment in what I’m cooking and feel affection for my efforts. Dishes aren’t so bad when you’ve just eaten delicious cocoa crusted steak with green beans and toasted almonds.
Also, I turn 23 in exactly 2 weeks. IS THIS WHAT PROGRESS LOOKS LIKE?