Permission to cook...

I had the most wonderful epiphany today as a result of going to Book Larder.

Now, for those of you who may be wondering what the hell Book Larder is, it is the most epic of bookstores in that it is a bookstore devoted COMPLETELY to cookbooks. 

Can we say foodie heaven?

And as an amateur foodie, I was like a kid in a candy store with a blank check. *cha-ching*

So, while perusing around the store "squee'-ing with glee at volume after volume of Kosher cooking, Moroccan cooking, books about bitters, about beer parings, about this, about that...and all of it pertaining to the exquisite world of food, I realized that it is only recently that my love of cooking has been rekindled.

You see, it was three years ago that the passion for cooking was smothered.

I mean, can you imagine living in an environment where even something so basic and commonplace as cooking with garlic is forbidden? Can you imagine being belittled for cooking something other than pre-packaged and over processed edibles?

Yes, that was the environment I was in, and this was only the tip of the iceberg.

I think there is a correlation between nurturing the soul and nurturing the body. Which is why the phrase "food for the soul" is very multi-faceted for me.

When the body is starved, the soul also suffers, and when the soul is starved, the body suffers.

So, given where I was living and how I was living, it would be safe to say that both my soul and my body were suffering. And suffering quite deeply, because I was physically ill CONSTANTLY.

Well, by some divine grace, or some moment of sheer happenstance, I was finally free of that toxic environment....and I did so with the holiest of holies firmly in hand. Yes, I had my divine garlic press.
*insert angelic chorus*

From that moment on, food slowly has made it's way back to the forefront of my mind, and I have embraced it like Penelope with her long lost Odysseus. My mood improved, my health improved, and my livelyhood returned.


As I rebuilt my kitchen arsenal, I experimented tenatively...expecting to once again hear the strains of my oppressor's words coming at me that I shall not, I cannot...but as I added harissa, ginger, ras-el-hanout, cardamom, rubbed sage, smoked paprika, and of course garlic...those words did not come.

So, I became bolder, adventurous, and hell, maybe even a little reckless as I delved into culinary madness. I made dishes with gusto. Even mere Mac and Cheese had become elevated in my mind to something akin to the Holy Grail. Which now brings me to the present...

Having purchased Spice: Flavors of The Eastern Mediterranean by Ana Sortun, I was struck by that brilliant bolt thrown by Odin, and an epiphany came.

Never will I ever have to ask for permission to cook ever again.

Never will I let someone take from me the passion of food, the love of cooking.

For this is my soul, it is my life, and I will defend it just as easily as I would defend my flesh and blood from harm.

I will let this flame kindle, I will feed it and let it grow, and I will be sated.

I will feed my soul.