Apartments in New York City can be scary, sometimes even scarier than what you see on the streets at 3am. Kitchens are often the dirtiest, grimiest, most crowded place of all (we’ll pretend no one has ever seen the bathroom of a 20-something man). As someone who cannot stand to have leftover dishes or a mess in my 400 square-foot studio, cooking often feels like an inevitable struggle that will end with scrubbing, soaking and loathing. Not to mention the difficulty of trying to retrieve pots and pans from shelves I cannot reach (how did they even get up there in the first place?).
I used to only like cooking for other people. There was something about it, perhaps after seeing my mother cook for so many years, and how much joy she would take it in, I wanted to know what it would be like myself. Cooking really can feel like an extension of love, feeding those you care about, nourishing their bodies and souls. There is something quite powerful about it, and I think that’s what originally attracted me to it, because let’s be serious, I love the activity of going out to eat more than anyone I know.
Unfortunately, after months (and years) of cooking for ex-boyfriends, I got sick of it and just began to equate it with all the other chores I had to do. Eventually, cooking was no longer a priority, and I was definitely happy to let it go (just like the boyfriends).
It’s been a few years now since I used to cook regularly. And even as someone who lives to discover new restaurants, I started to get sick of not knowing what I was eating, and I started to hate the feeling of not being in control of what I was consuming.
As I’ve mentioned before, last December marked a significant moment in my quest to take charge of my body, inside and out, after I received Gwyneth Paltrow’s “It’s All Good” from my friend Gobo. I’ve been vegan, vegetarian, “pescetarian”, you name it – but this book was different. No self-loathing, no guilt, just recipes for feeling good (that means NO DAIRY people! Seriously.). But even with all that excitement, I still was not ready to revert back to my “cooking” ways – I was drinking the Kool-Aid, but I was not ready to start making it.
Now, more than 6 months after my Gwyneth “intervention”, I’m ready to start again.
I think New York makes people selfish, and I truly believe that at certain times it is imperative to put yourself first; often, if not for any other reason, because no one else will. I started to realize, I constantly chose to put my needs above others (as to not be taken advantage of); I do what I want, I say what I think, and it works out for me (most of the time). Obviously there are exceptions, and it’s never a bad thing to make sacrifices for friends or loved ones, but for the most part, I listen to my body and what it wants to make sure I take the best possible care of myself, first and foremost.
This realization sparked another one: I do not need someone in my life to take the time to cook. I do not need someone else to justify treating my body well and giving it the nourishment it wants and craves; I do not need to slave away for someone else to do something that will make myself happy.
I’ve been researching and studying ways to fuel my yoga and my runs; I’ve been experimenting with recipes, ingredients and kitchen gadgets. It’s pretty exciting actually, focusing most of my “personal” energy on taking care of myself, allowing food, sweat, and (attempted) meditation to work their wonders.
I’ve been anticipating the arrival of my vegetable spiralizer and food processor for about a week now… I’ll be sure to let you know if they are worth the wait.
x
if only bitches would listen 