“The dishes!” I wail, glancing into the kitchen on my way to bed. “Why are there always and forever dishes needing to be washed?”
Dan replies kindly: “Because we use them.”
“Oh. Right.”
~~~
On Valentine’s Day, 2004, I kicked my brand new husband out of the house for four hours so I could make Chicken Parmesan as a surprise. To this day, I have no idea how a pile of chicken-topped spaghetti could possibly have taken four hours, but it’s fair to say I had no idea what I was doing. (The consistency of said chicken, which could have better served as packing material, agrees.) However, I so longed to make something beyond our standard fare of Campbell’s and Kraft. Surely, surely, with a little effort and the clucking, grandmotherly help of that red plaid cook book, culinary pleasure could be found in our dining room.
We ate Taco Bell the next day.
A lot changes when one moves to a country without fast food, though. When we first arrived in Italy, I mostly fixed packages of risotto mix and frozen chicken cordon bleu, and we picked up pizza a few times a week. However, I took mental notes each time we were invited to an Italian meal. One friend taught me how to make melt-in-your-mouth gnocchi; another gave me her recipe for amazing oven-roasted potatoes. I learned—thanks to my longsuffering husband—how to make cappuccinos, and I started auditioning new dessert recipes with his co-workers each week. I made a New Year’s resolution to learn how to cook meat so that people would rather eat it than use it as a doorstop. The next year, with a tasty repertoire of brining and braising techniques, I made a New Year’s resolution to make friends with vegetarian fare. I started jotting down menus and grocery lists for the first time in my life.
This year, my attention is drawn more toward my desk than toward the kitchen, but the process of cooking still engages my heart in a way I couldn’t have imagined six years ago. There’s something sacred in the challenge of planning meals to nourish my family’s bodies and souls while guarding our time and finances. There is mindfulness in rubbing fragrant herbs into a pot of soup, serenity in rolling pastry dough. Food preparation is no longer just a means to survival—it is a classroom, a laboratory, and an art studio. A love song. A risk, an exploit, a gathering of the usual five senses plus a few more. A thrice-daily dose of beauty to share and savor.
It is also, as reluctant as I may be to admit this, worth every single always-and-forever-dirty dish.
I hate dishes. They multiply. I think they may be mating in the sink. I used to love to cook. Before I HAD to cook. I still love to every once in a while, when I am in the mood, or when I find a new recipe. Then it is soothing to chop and blend and nurture a dish into a meal. The problem is that I am a procrastinator. Dinner at our house is at 6:30 when my husband gets home from work. I am always scrambling to get dinner done on time, which takes all of the soothing out of it. I love weekends when HE cooks and I just get to “help” (read: take orders). It is nice to have someone to talk to while cooking. I would love to have your favorite recipes…yum!
I’ve been flirting with the idea of taking on the gnocchi challenge m’self. Cooking is probably the chore I mind least. Speaking of cooking, the ever-addictive and hilarious Pioneer Woman has two daughters who made something she termed a “disasterpiece.” The verbage made me think of you. 🙂
I don’t mind the dishes so much, actually. There are other things I definitely hate worse. I couldn’t cook much when we married and Anders is a great cook so I was pretty intimidated for a long time. But the AWC cooking club activity helped and also just DARING to try things. A lot of the recipes I use are good old standbys for quick & easy meals on the fly after work before activities, but once in awhile it’s nice to plan something that takes a bit more effort. I still love it when Anders takes charge in the kitchen, though. Cleaning up the dishes afterwards is totally worth it!
I planned on making the Italian Sock Dropper the person responsible for washing up. MIL got wind of it though and bought us a dishwasher to save her baby’s hands from harsh soap and water (rolls eyeballs…but also sends loving glance at dish washer who is much more reliable than procrastinating husband)
oh i hope, i hope i learn as much about cooking and grocery lists in 6 years as you did! i am just beginning this process myself!
Meg – Dishes are rather procreative, aren’t they? I have an idea brewing about those favorite recipes… stay tuned.
Q – Not to forget the slightly lesser-known disastercakes and disastburgers! And you should try gnocchi sometime; it’s labor intensive, but in a fun way… especially if you can procure some spousal help.
Liz – Want to come do my dishes? I would let you, free of charge!
Sarah – A pair of rubber gloves might have been a less expensive gift, but a dishwasher is a very lovable thing indeed. I only made it one year in our teensy, counterless angolo cucina without one.
Lindsey – It’s a fun process as long as you take it in steps. Do you read any cooking blogs? They were like a daily cooking class for me for awhile. Querida mentioned Pioneer Woman, who turns every recipe into a fantastic tutorial (plus, I’ve never made a dish of hers that we didn’t love). I also love Smitten Kitchen and Epicurious (which is not, technically, a blog, but is my go-to source for all kinds of recipes).
thanks lady!