“Cooking” is something I struggle with. Not in the sense of not knowing how to turn on the oven, and not in the sense of some existential self-argument, but in just taking the time to think about it and plan for it. I like to cook, and odd as it sounds (particularly if you know my near-pathological inability to put things away), I even like the process of cleaning up the mess I’ve made and bringing order back to the kitchen. So often, though, I make the choice to get take-out or open up that box of Kraft Dinner or pour a bowl of cereal because I’m tired and thinking about anything more than actually putting food in my mouth seems to require more brain-space than I’m willing to devote. This article by Kathleen Flinn (via Not Martha), although geared towards food writers, makes some interesting points about what exactly that choice means, and what it can mean when we chose differently. I’m particularly struck by the personal economics — “it’s cheaper anyway” isn’t necessarily true, and I’m ashamed I’d never really thought of it in those terms.
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