Cooking? Yes, I love cooking!

People who know me for many years will agree that cooking was not my favorite word. Pots, frying pans, stove, chopping, baking, stirring or whatsoever that were not for me. What I did really enjoy doing was eating.

Yellow rice with turkey and apples

When I was seventeen my mother said that it was time for me to start cooking. She told me something like: ‘I guess you have been observing what I do in the kitchen; so, now you must be ready’. Honestly, I was just clueless. She left me alone in the kitchen with a recipe in my hands. I was there with all those huge pots and cooking stuff staring at me without any idea where to start or what to do. I felt like Alicia in wonderland, very tiny with all those giant objects trying to tell me something. I don’t remember well but I ‘made’ something that my parents said it was OK.

Having lived this episode might give you an idea why cooking was not part of my vocabulary or at least something I adore doing. After that, I probably cooked a few more times and then because of studying, working, travelling, working and travelling again the kitchen was far away from me.

Everything was under controlled for some more years. Cooking or let’s say boiling the necessary, was enough to make my belly happy. At least I was satisfied after eating (normally I was the only consumer).

When I came to Australia everything has changed in many ways. I lived for the first time by myself. So in terms of cooking, there was no mother or roommates to cook for me. With my basic cuisine repertoire, I ate the same dish for several days in a raw. As you can imagine the 2 first times it tasted nicely yet from the third to the fifth one wasn’t very pleasant. Eating out is not the best option as food in Australia is not that cheap.

The following months I tried my own combinations. I started reading some recipes on internet, calling my family for help, asking some friends here, etc. Time flies and I’ve been living in Australia for 18 months and I cooked countless times. The first time was a real disaster (believe me). Then I’ve been improving step by step. In May I made my first Peruvian dinner for some special friends, seeing them smiling and enjoying the moment made me so glad. At that moment I understood the happiness of my mom when we are at the table.

‘The secret ingredients are always creativity and lots of love’.

My mom

I haven’t become a chef or anything but the take away of this story is first, that you can ended up loving the most unexpected things; and second, no matter how many times we fail, the purpose here is having fun and doing things a little better every time.

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