Jun
10
Food for Thought: When you are afraid to make mistakes
An alternate title for this post is: Kate vs. the Pan of Half-Roasted Beets
So glass shards were everywhere, including a few shards in a nearby cast-iron pan of roasted cauliflower. Beet juice was dripping down from the stovetop onto the floor like blood running from a murdered corpse. Indeed, I had murdered that poor pan. I was in the middle of it all – great piles of squash guts and dirty cooking boards, half-thawed fish waiting to be wrapped in bacon, and now a pan of roasted vegetables that had to be meticulously inspected to insure I didn’t really kill anyone at dinner if they swallowed a sliver of the remains of Beautiful Blue.
My stomach hurt. I had jet lag. My messy kitchen project seemed a bit too much – and I just wanted to give up. Call it quits, bust out the cereal and almond milk and leave it at that. But I didn’t. I knew, somehow, that I had to soldier through the mess and the stomachache and chow down on something more nourishing than processed cereal. So I laughed, even though I was mad at myself for shattering a pan. I danced to music on the radio, even though my tired body wanted nothing to do with it. I convinced myself that I was going to cheerfully finish this meal, and I did. In fact, it was a rousing success. The fish disappeared under my brothers’ eager forks, the mountains of squash made great leftovers, and the beets were relocated to another pan and finished the next morning. I couldn’t quite muster the gumption to look at them any more that night.
When people tell me that I am a “born cook”, I think of these types of stories, of which I have many, and try to deny it. “You’re just a natural!”, they say. Yes, a natural mess-maker. I can create more dishes than a catering party of 12. Yes, a natural mistake-maker. I’ve forgotten baking soda, not clearly understood the difference when measuring dried and fresh herbs, or failed to read or remember some crucial ingredient or step in a recipe. I’ve made many a mediocre meal, been totally baffled by caramel sauce, and been afraid to even attempt poaching an egg.
One thing I have never been afraid of, though, is trying something new in the kitchen. That I can’t explain. I love to create and explore, and I somehow seek out new twists or techniques without even thinking about it. But any skill I have, any lessons I’ve learned on my own? They’ve come from experience.
And do you know what experience is in the kitchen? Screwing up. A lot. All the time. And coming back to the table, literally and figuratively, after each mistake.
Like learning a foreign language, mistakes are opportunities for the greatest lessons in cooking. The only real mistake is to give up after making a mistake or failing to admit you made one in the first place. I don’t always like to say I’ve shattered glass pans (twice now!), messed up something as easy as banana bread three times in a row, or made terrible, unattractive, soggy casseroles. But I’ve learned, I’ve learned so much from it, more than any cooking show or recipe book could have taught me. Mistakes also have the added benefit of injecting humility into your life.
The best part of it is that mistakes can be remedied. Either you learn simple tricks to mend your errored ways, or you are reminded of the common knowledge that you are sometimes too busy to remember adequately (ahem put a cooling rack between that damn pan and the stovetop surface!).
they lived to fight another day – and so did I
Here is another opportunity for me to wax lyrical about how much I love An Everlasting Meal: Cooking with Economy and Grace. There is an ENTIRE CHAPTER of recipes for what to do when you burn food, undercook it, oversalt it, or just plain screw up somehow. The recipes are so tempting I want to burn some eggplant just to try out a few! So you don’t have to be afraid of making a mistake or wasting food when you start cooking, because you can get this book and fall back on delectable solutions. So much of TE’s writing aligns with my philosophy on food: it can be hodgepodge and simple; homemade is the best way to enjoy food AND it can be efficient; and sustainably raised meat, dairy, and produce is the most wholesome for your mind, body, and soul as well as the planet. Yet there is nothing pretentious about this book at all; it is as real as if your beloved aunt were sharing her best cooking secrets with you and comforting you when things didn’t go well the first time around.
glass-free. win.
You’ve got to keep coming back for second helpings of wisdom, even after the first taste may have made you bitter about a certain mistake. Don’t let a fear of doing the wrong thing, ruining food, not living up to the expectations of others, or whatever other anxiety you have about cooking stop you from trying. Failure is growth. You’ll become a better cook each time you make a mistake.
Heaven knows I have.
***
Food for Thought #2: Don’t Let Your Brain Beat Down Your Heart
More “learning experiences” are in my post Kitchen Failures.
Kate – this is a great post! Your blogging voice is getting so strong! And totally complemented by your awesome photos. So proud of you!
aww thank you – that is great to hear! (please tell your friends…) Thank you for always being so supportive and encouraging and supporting the blog! love
Oh, that is such an awful feeling! I was just making food for guests last week, and I turned on the oven to preheat, completely forgetting about the crust I had put in there – I didn’t find it until smoke started pouring out of the oven.
But you’re right, mistakes are how we grow. If everything went right all the time, then what would we have to be thankful for?
A very good point. Still it’s hard not to want to kick yourself sometimes. But yeah – as long as we remember the takeaway, cooking leaves us nothing but grateful! Hope your dinner party/event went well! In fact, I’m sure it was a success.
It actually turned out to be a lovely meal, but that had a lot to do with my guests
I’ll post about it tomorrow!
Great! I look forward to reading about it