Why I Started Cooking

Why I Started

Brined herring, smoked mackerel, cured trout. The flavors were so concentrated that you either loved or hated them. Ironically, I love them now, but I hated them as a kid.

In my early teenage years, I remember trying a piece of fish that I did not detest. It was a simple piece of tilapia, coated in flour and egg and overcooked, that caught my attention. A family friend had made it, and I asked my mom if we could ask him for the recipe. She looked at me and told me it was incredibly simple to make. Later that week, she showed me how, using a few pieces of fish, a plate of flour, a plate of beaten eggs, and a lot of olive oil. It was one of the first things I learned how to make, alongside Rice-A-Roni from the box, boiled hot dogs, and fried bologna. Soon after, I graduated to stovetop-braised chicken legs.

It was exciting to have that kind of agency. I could choose what I wanted to eat and make it happen myself, as long as I was willing to learn how.

This blossomed into an expression of creativity. I began experimenting with seasoning, with cultural fusion, with new ingredients. I learned how to make sushi, risotto, gumbo, and more. I began to understand recipes as guidelines, rather than formulae. Cooking grew from a way to satisfy my own appetite into an experience I could share with family, friends, and partners. Sharing is what cemented the passion. Spreading joy through food became an obsession, and I would spend years honing the craft.

Why I Continue

I see food as a cultural event. Recipes carry a history of both joy and suffering. When I make Borsht, I think about the beets, cabbage, onions, potatoes, carrots, and dill that go into it. I imagine generations before me cooking with what the season provided, and my ancestors making the same dish through the summers. I think of how I didn’t like it as a child, but love it now. I only started making it myself when a CSA membership provided exactly the ingredients for it. All of these thoughts connect me to the planet and its people, and I treasure that experience.

That connection is what I still enjoy sharing with others. Many of my fondest memories were made around a table, and sharing a meal is often how I build bonds. It doesn’t have to be profound either; it’s always a pleasure to make someone happy with a simple, tasty waffle, even for a minute.