When I was about nine, my mother introduced the “end of week” cooking approach. When the week came to a close, she’d open up the fridge and allow me to use anything about to expire. This was a way she could give me low-stakes experimentation time with food.
Everything from greens and carrots to tomato sauce, cheese, and tofu could be found in the fridge (my mother is a vegetarian, so meat came into my option list later on). Armed with a plethora of spices and tidbits I’d learned from being in the kitchen since I was four, I began to play more independently in the kitchen, free from recipes and judgment. That freedom is how I earned the confidence to take culinary risks and still influences how I cook today.
Popcorn soup
It sounds great, but it wasn’t all sunshine in Gillian’s kitchen. My specialty was typically a tomato sauce-based soup with Italian spices. But one notable day, I chose to try my hand at a neo-French onion soup.
Onion powder, onions, butter, and a whole mess of other spices had the broth smelling sensational. A grand idea came into my head. Popcorn! Popcorn popped with heat, so it’d obviously hold cheese up!
No, I didn’t pop it first. I suppose I should’ve understood that air popping was a key part of making popcorn, but excitement overwhelmed rationality, and into the broth went the kernels. I covered it with melted cheese and served it to my mother.
The experience of eating popcorn soup was deeply unpleasant. Needless to say, the kernels never popped. My mother stuck her spoon into the cheese and dug up a bite, complete with kernels. She attempted to chew it. I was pretty sure she choked lightly instead. But, she was gracious about it. All she said was, “It’s not your best.”
I was never punished or made to feel less than when something went “wrong” in the kitchen, and as such, cooking became another art form that I could explore at my own pace.
Of course, there are lots of styles of cooking and I have deep respect for them. Like many, I’m obsessed with shows like The Bear, but I also believe that kind of pressure doesn’t work for the average cook. At least not in the beginning.
Before you reach Michelin star-worthy perfection, you first need to fall in love with ingredients. You have to be satiated by the sensation of stirring and watching the steam rise from warming pots. The sizzle of butter or oil in a skillet combined with minced herbs needs to make your heart sing. Ultimately, you must develop a relationship with cooking so you can last long term.
I love food.
There are so many important parts of life that involve food: Holidays when people travel far distances to share dishes, family meals where you talk about your day, or those little comforting moments like when you scrape your knee and a loving parent hands you an ice cream.
I’m not a religious person, but when I’m not under timed pressure to produce it, the act of cooking itself feels somewhat holy. And that’s because I was allowed to find my own path to it.
I do have other happy cooking experiences that involve measurements. I understand that baking is a science (I usually leave that science to my stepmother, who’s much more skilled in that arena), and I know that meat must be prepared properly or it can be unsafe or just – tough as a hockey puck. But food adventures exist within the fridge or in your cabinets.
You can do this by noting an item that never gets used in your pantry. Take it as a personal challenge to pair it up with another friend in a pan. Most recently, I remembered I had barley and some frozen vegetables kicking around, so I put on my thinking cap and made a stew for my family to come home to that night.
Combinations and key items that always work
Are you worried about wasting things? Don’t let it hold you back.
Oftentimes, well-meaning parents traumatize their children by either not letting them in the kitchen or by telling them certain ingredients aren’t okay to have. Those kids turn into adults who’re terrified to make a mistake and inevitably end up cooking only “safe” things, ordering takeout, or living solely for recipes, despairing when they go astray.
I’m here to tell you this – it’s fine to make something utterly disgusting. It happens. I once made a completely inedible fish chowder. But if you’re unsure how to proceed, here are some combinations that always work.
Coconut and heat
Dishes with shredded coconut or coconut milk and some type of hot taste like chili powder, jalapeños, or Cholula or Sriracha sauce, are delicious. My best example of this in action is using shrimp as a protein, bathing it in coconut milk, and mixing in Cajun spices.
Figs and horseradish
While coconut doesn’t always bring intense sweetness to a dish, figs and horseradish can accomplish a similar profile to coconut and heat. Even if you’re just layering horseradish and fig spread on crackers, it’ll be incredible. They even make horseradish cheese, so this is an easy win that’ll leave others extremely pleased.
Green tea and sweetness
Not everyone enjoys green tea, but it can be really refreshing if used in a cocktail or mocktail. You could pair green tea with pineapple or lychee and add a splash of alcohol to finish, or, keep it clean with some seltzer water. Your choice!
Balsamic Vinegar
This one needs no specific partner. Use it for chicken or tomatoes, mozzarella, and basil, or even for certain fruits like strawberries for a uniquely fabulous result.
Garlic
This may be a controversial opinion, but I’ve always found that garlic fixes just about any mistake. It’s a specific taste, but if you like it as much as I do, seek out the many ways you can prepare it. Oven-roasted, confit, or simply tossed into whatever you’re concocting, it’ll likely work.
Are you looking for other pairings or go-to items you can lean on? Tastes are individual, and spices aren’t super expensive. Build up your collection and experiment to see if you like them together. Once you find something that makes you smile with your whole mouth, add it to neutral proteins like chicken. And remember, if it doesn’t work out, that’s alright. It’s all part of your culinary journey, and if you’re like most people, no one’s grading your dishes.
