I made a New Years resolution to cook more, exercise more, and be neater around the house. Although I can't say that my house is any tidier than it was in 2010, or that my waistline is any smaller than it was in 2010, I can say that I've - we've - made an honest effort to cook more.
In addition to bringing unprepared food back into my home (despite the rising opposition from the ice cubes, ice cream and the bottles of booze), cooking has also opened up a whole can of worms of the tools that I need to complete my recipes - spatulas, colanders, cutting boards, zesters, pepper miles, knife rack - which brings me to my biggest problem.
To quote Wayne's World "A gun rack... a gun rack. I don't even own *a* gun, let alone many guns that would necessitate an entire rack. What am I gonna do... with a gun rack?" Cart before the horse much? I don't even have a knife to put on the knife rack that I swear I need. Well, until today.
I manage a restaurant in downtown Philly, which, if you're one of my two readers you already know this. A little while back I was talking to one of my coworkers about my new years resolution, swapping easy recipes for me to try with limited resources, and I mentioned in passing that I was in dire need of a knife. Like I'm-"chopping"-cilantro-with-scissors dire need of a suitable knife. Today, I got my wish. At approximately 2:45 pm, my dear friend passed me a retired, lovingly used but freshly sharpened 10" chef knife.
The knife that I was given has definitely been used, you can tell. Like buying a used bike, I can tell that this blade has battled the bravest sirloins, racks of lamb, and duck breasts. Overcome the tedious tasks of deboning chickens, filleting salmon, and trimming pork loins. The handle is black, faded near the base, missing chunks along the side, and comfortable resting in your hand.
It's a great knife, and not because now it's mine, but because it really reminded me of why we all have resolutions anyway. Why each year we swear to be better people, try new things, push old boundaries, and forgive ourselves for our shortcomings in the previous year. We can all be so hard on ourselves, and for what? Because we're still 5 pounds heavier? Because we're 1 of ten million 20 something's that doesn't have it all figured out?
I think we could all give ourselves some space to not know the answers. To give ourselves the space to be confused, and to not have it all figured out. To absolve ourselves for our mistakes, and to keep loving ourselves and each other for our light and our darkness. To find the courage to accept our shortcomings as a piece of our puzzle, and make resolutions that don't put us on an island, but brings us closer to the people who love us the most.
When I'm cooking, 12 legs are dancing around mine, doing their best to keep the floor clean. Drive-by kisses land on my shoulder, and four hands work around chopping, dicing, searing, and stewing, the pot and sometimes my patience, when I reach for something and it isn't there or I burn myself on my awful electric range. The kitchen is filled with steam and stories about how fun and sometimes challenging the day has been, and big plans for tomorrow. Sometimes I get unexpected outcomes, but nine times out of ten I love them.
I still don't have all of the tools that I need to be a successful home cook, or whatever it is that I'm becoming. But sometimes all you need is a friend, or your only devoted reader, to remind you that you have the power to make resolutions, and to become your absolute best, to create a world that you want to live in, maybe forever. Lets all help each other keep the knife before the knife rack, absolve ourselves for forgotten resolutions, and celebrate our little victories, one dish at a time.
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