Why I Don't Like Recipes

I loved my grandmother's cooking. One day, when I was 20 or so, I asked Grandma to share some of her recipes with me. "Recipe, what's a recipe?" could have been her response. She had no recipes. She just knew how to cook.


Grandma invited me to spend the afternoon so she could show me how to make some of her signature dishes. It was one of the most frustrating afternoons of my life.


I stood by Grandma's side as she made chicken soup, noodles (from scratch...no dried noodles for Grandma - rather eggs, flour, water), twice baked stuffed potatoes.


We ran into trouble almost as soon as we started. I was already a collector of recipes by then and that's what I'd come to gather in the course of the day. But, Grandma just cooked. As she grabbed ingredients and threw them together. I tried to slow her down enough to get measurements. 


"How much flour, Grandma?" I'd ask. 
"A measha" she'd reply.
"What's a measha?" I'd ask.
She shook her fist at me, repeating, "A measha."


I still have the sketchy notes I took that day. I left her apartment feeling unsure I'd ever be able to recreate her meals.


Back home, my mother asked how the day went. "Terribly," I said. "I didn't learn how to cook anything. She doesn't measure," I whined. "And, what's a measha?" I asked, shaking my fist at my mother, convinced she'd have no idea what it was either. 


My mother laughed. She knew. A "measha" was the amount you could hold in your hand. That explained the shaken fist - Grandma was showing me how much it was - she was, indeed, teaching me how much of everything went into her dishes, but since I was looking for standard measurements, I didn't get it.


All these years later, I cook like Grandma. I rarely measure, I throw things together.  Which is one reason I'm not always happy to share recipes: to do so means I have to slow down, find measuring cups and spoons and stop myself from just cooking to figure out what I'm doing so another person can recreate it.


One reason I don't like recipes is that they make cooking seem like more of a big deal than it is. (Foodies please don't read further - if you really love cooking that exactly, that's great, but that level of attention to detail stops most of us from cooking, or from cooking regularly.) Most recipes do quite nicely with a little more or a little less of this or that.


Which brings me to the next problem with recipes: we all like something different. For example, my husband loves highly spiced food, I like to taste the flavors of the foods themselves and so prefer little seasoning.  Recipes reflect the palate of the writer so if you use them, remember to change them to suit your taste preferences.


My biggest problem with recipes though is that the more we rely on recipes, the less sense of food and food combining we naturally develop. Once you know food and know your own tastes, cooking becomes easy and then it can become a joy. Which then leads it to be something we're more likely to do which is one of my major points about food - it is meant to nourish us and the most nourishing food is food that's made at home (and enjoyed and appreciated). We've lost that ability we used to have: to easily prepare meals that are nutritious and enjoyable.


So, my advice is to take any recipe's directions suggestions. Use recipes to try new dishes or to start out if you're just learning to cook. But, also give yourself permission to cook without recipes and to make some mistakes - you may dump a meal or two in the garbage but you'll learn a lot - you'll focus more on the flavors and textures you enjoy and you'll learn to cook naturally. Finally, when you stop using recipes, cooking becomes a creative activity, one that's bound to bring you satisfaction.

Lastly, I've been cooking radicchio lately. A little olive oil, a little water, five minutes or so in a pan until it wilts. It's delicious combined with baby bok choy. After cooking, some sesame oil and coconut aminos (or tamari sauce) sprinkled on top is nice. 

(I apologize if I sound like the food police or cook book grump. That wasn't my intention but I couldn't find a jolly-er way to get this out.)