I loudly believe a day off should be exactly that – a day off, not a day running around in little bitty circles trying to accomplish something or see something or do something, unless it is something you really, truly want to accomplish or see or do for your own enjoyment. I feel pretty good about recharging my batteries by just farting around. Today, I cooked.
I’m a guy who cooks. I’m not Gordon Ramsey, or even one of the many browbeat contestants on his various television shows, or even that guy who throws impromptu little get together and creates amazing munchies on the fly while amusing his guests with witty stories. I’ve got a decent kitchen, for the first time in my life, and I’m learning to enjoy cooking in it. I’ve watched enough cooking shows on television, and read everything by Thug Kitchen, and followed my half-Italian Boyfriend around the kitchen for 10+ years to have figured out the basics, and I like to sometimes play in the kitchen.
We had our first frost last night, so I had to pick all the tomatoes that were still trying to do something on the vine yesterday, and I made green tomato sauce/paste today. It’s not hard. It will be amazing spread on some pizza dough with some good cheese on top. And while it was cooking down, I made my lunch for next week (inspired as always by Thug Kitchen) and knocked together a garbanzo bean and Greek yogurt sandwich spread with sliced black olives and yellow bell pepper and a little mustard and some spices and damn it came out really good and I will be eating some fine and healthy sandwiches on my lunch hour next week. And then I made bread. Because my half-Italian Boyfriend has shown me how to do that, and I’m not nearly as good at it as he is, but I can pull off a loaf of something decent to spread butter or the homemade pesto he made last night all over. We’ll have that with some leftover barley-beef soup I made earlier this week for supper.
And now I’m at peace. I feel like I Have accomplished something, but something I wanted to accomplish for myself, not for anyone else. Cooking is fun and fairly Zen, especially when you hand chop the vegetables and hand kneed the dough, which I do because I Need That Zen In My Life. No self-inflicted pressure for everything to be excellent, because frankly, if I f**k it up, I’ll give it to the dog or throw it out if even he won’t eat it, and I’ll order a pizza.