I decided yesterday that I am done with gourmet cooking. A few years ago, I embarked on a culinary challenge -- to cook only exotic and tantalizing meals that were bursting with flavour. Mediocrity was no longer an option. And it was a success -- I've scoured recipe books and websites, watched hours and hours of Food TV and have cooked a wide assortment of meals any foodie would be proud of serving. But lately, I find the pressure to keep turning out new meals does not fit with our busy lives. More ingredients to shop for and prep, more time to marinate and braise and more fucking dishes. Who am I doing this for? The kids couldn't care less. In fact, it's always a battle trying to get them to try yet another new dish. I've proved that I can cook. I can improvise, cook for a crowd, and invent delicious recipes. Yes, I am a good cook.
I finally realize why my mother's cooking was so plain. Time. There are other things I want to be doing with my time right now. I'm not ditching my principals -- meals will still be healthy, cheap, and tasty. I'm just done with trying to strive for perfection. I broke the news to my partner last night and he was disappointed. But he agreed that there's a time and place for everything. Gourmet meals will now be the exception rather than the norm. We might even start appreciating them more. It's a lifestyle choice.
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