So a little while ago I spoke about walking and creativity, about how the act of pacing the streets where I live really influences the work I create. Today, I want to talk about another influence on my creativity, cooking.
I love cooking, and not just because I love food.
As with walking there’s an obvious physical benefit to cooking, or rather eating. Feeding yourself with foods that power you (mentally AKA chocolate and physically) to create is an act of self-care if ever I saw one. There’s a quote in a piece Ruby Tandoh wrote for the Guardian that I often think of when I’m cooking “The thing that tastes the sweetest, when you’re feeling blue, is knowing that somebody cares enough to want to nourish you, to keep you going, and to help your body grow strong.” You can do that for yourself too, make the effort to nourish and look after yourself to show that you care and that you’re worth that effort.
There’s a lot food philosophies like that, which I carry around with me. That’s part of the reason I created my zine about my relationship with tea.
And when it comes to food philosophers, my Socrates is Nigel Slater. I can so vividly remember seeing him on TV, demonstrating a recipe, pulling out a cold tray of leftover veggies from his fridge saying just put in whatever veg you like and meaning it. Telling you to make the food your own. That was a real break through for me, cooking isn’t all or nothing. It doesn’t have to be a science in following minute step by step in a recipe, it’s taking the skeleton of a meal, whether that’s something your mum taught you or is a Ottolenghi special, and building it into something you love.
Now that I know the basics, cooking is a space for me to play and create without the fear that comes with failure in my art. It’s something separate, where it doesn’t matter if it looks great, or if it’s not quite right. As long as I’ve put things I love in, it’s hard to go wrong.
Then there’s the joy of making something with your hands, to take some veggies and through the power of your own magic turn them into something bigger than their individual parts. Cooking takes me away from my screen and forces me to focus on my hands, to focus on not chopping those hands off. You have to be in the moment and engage all of your senses to stay on top of a few pans. It’s a good reminder that you’re really here. For me it’s often a much needed reminder.
And that’s why I love cooking. That’s also why I think we all need something outside of our day to day that we really love, that can take us somewhere different. That doesn’t have to be cooking – although I highly recommend it. It could be sewing, or carving, or tennis, or reflexology, or whatever else gets you back in the moment, just find it.
