A perk of being picky, I think, is that the food I make tastes good, because otherwise, I won’t eat it. Because otherwise, I feel irritated at having invested time and effort into something I don’t love to eat. Because otherwise, if I don’t love it, and it’s not crispy where it’s supposed to be or tender where it’s supposed to be or salty when it’s supposed to, I feel agitated. I have to learn the food! I have to learn it!
I mull over it. I research temperatures. How do I manipulate it properly? I look up similar experiences. Why did egg whites collapse? Why was the meat rubbery? Then I learn the material. What does one type of meat do under different types of heat? Pressure? Time? How does one vegetable cook so the texture is just right?–and not like those awful watery canned cafeteria greens.
When it comes to food, I’m just so very picky. I’m picky about what I eat, so I’m picky about how I make it, because if I don’t make it right, it’s as frustrating as being two and force fed carrots. I’m also conscious of price–cannot be too high– and health–cannot be unhealthy and bad, but it also cannot taste bad, like those weird veggie shots in smoothies.
It must taste clean, with little salt, little oil, little grease. I always privately thought that delicious food swamped in grease was cheating. Dirty fast food is fine in moderation, and I love indulging every now and then, but if I eat too much, I feel like shit. And healthy should not equate to nasty. Vegetables smoothies make me gag. Healthy foods should taste good, too. Clean protein. Vegetables. Yes to flavor explosions, no to blandness. This is where the spice rack steps up.
There are various rules surrounding the food I make and eat. I generally don’t eat the same foods two times in a row, unless I’m on an obsessive streak. Fruits don’t mix with vegetables. Vegetables are better solid and simple; fruits are preferable in smoothie form. No meats in the morning, only carbohydrates. The more I type this out, the more I realize that my rules are a bit rigid and that I am, as my boyfriend says, particular. Well, I guess I am very particular.
At least my picky particularities contribute to my food-making. Or so I like to think. On another note, it wrong to expect others to be able to cook? To me, it’s a life skill. Like being a caveman and knowing how to make fire. I find enthusiasm towards cooking both admirable and attractive. Food, sustenance–this shit is important! And it should always taste good, too.