Alright, it’s time for a confession.
Ever since I moved back home in October, I’ve barely done any cooking.
Yes, me. A food blogger. A foodie. A person who normally loves to cook.
Sure, I still make oatmeal most mornings, and I make simple things like eggs and pasta and couscous. But it’s rare for me to make a pot of soup, or homemade pizzas, or any of my other favorite things to cook.
I may seem like I’m full of excuses. Perhaps it all comes down to laziness, or bad habits (from not really cooking ever when I’ve lived at home), but all I know is my cooking is definitely on the low side while living at home.
All I can hope and assume is that when I move to the city and get my own place, the cooking will increase.
I LIKE TO HAVE MY OWN KITCHEN
As wonderful as my parents’ kitchen is, it’s never the same as having your own space and kitchen tools.
There’s plenty of counter space, so that’s not the issue. And we have all kinds of pots and pans and colanders and a food processor and pretty much whatever else I would think to use.
But it’s not my kitchen.
Even when I lived in Burlington, Vermont and had a tiny kitchen in my studio apartment, with next to no counter space, I did lots of cooking. I made soups or stews every Sunday to eat all week long. I canned tomatoes and made homemade pesto and applesauce and preserves.
So I know it’s not the space that’s an issue. It’s more about having privacy and my own cookware and not wanting to disturb anyone.
I’M GOING OUT TO EAT MORE
Being surrounded by friends and family (and living pretty close to lots of good restaurants), I eat out at least twice a week.
I really like it, even though eating out isn’t always very healthy. But when my friends invite me to go to the local Latin American café, or our favorite sushi place, or for wine and dessert at a little Italian place, I’m all in.
It feels good to get out of the house a few nights a week, and I’m at a point where I’m less concerned about saving money, and more concerned about staying social.
I GET AWFULLY COMFORTABLE
It must have something to do with going back to the house where I grew up, when I barely did any cooking.
It wasn’t until I was living on my own – after moving out of the dorms in college – that I really got into cooking. One roommate and I constantly experimented with different vegan recipes. One friend and I often cooked at her apartment, making big bowls of steamed vegetables with basmati rice and ghee. Many of our parties in college were potlucks or dinner parties, and we did quite a lot of cooking.
From there, I moved onto having that apartment in Burlington, where I learned how to cook quinoa and millet and dried beans and lots of other simple and healthy foods.
But whenever I get back home, it’s kind of like regressing back to my high school self. I get home from work, and my mom’s usually cooked dinner. I make sure to do the dishes afterwards (something I should have done better back in high school), but I still don’t really cook.
I suppose when the mood strikes, or when I move out, things will change. But for now, I’m in an acceptance mode, and really enjoying spending my time doing things besides cooking.
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I can understand…it’s easy not to cook. I get that way every 8-10 weeks or so and it lasts for about 4-5 days. When that happens, you’ll starve at my house if you’re waiting for me to cook!