Being Better

There are times in life when you feel down about yourself, when you suddenly realize that you are not the "best" at something you love. This feeling comes and goes in waves. It certainly has for me. There was the moment I realized that I was not the best singer in the world. I have a good voice, but not "the best". Nor do I have the drive to excel in that area. It took me a second but I realized that it's ok. I love to sing. I don't have to be "the best". I can sing for fun.

There have been more moments than I can count where I've had that sinking feeling, that sudden realization. You just have to realize that someone is going to one up you whether or not you like it.

This world is often centered around what you can do better than someone else. We focus altogether too much on the words better and best. I often wonder why and who judges such things. And more importantly, why is it important? Why focus on being better than someone else? Why try to be "the best" when it is an impossible notion? I try to think about being better than myself. I strive to improve each day without comparison.

That's usually when I retreat to the kitchen, to my corner of solitude. In the kitchen I can do anything and it doesn't matter who can do what better than you. It's a learning experience. It's a creative experience. It's about patience and you. Being in the kitchen, baking or cooking is about you and whatever you want it to be about.

On a good day, being in the kitchen is making dinner for friends. It's lighthearted and fun. It's a glass of wine while stirring the risotto. It's giggling while using that same rolling pin to roll out cookie dough because you can't figure out where your mother hid the rolling pin. It is relaxing because you can just be you. You can goof around and not worry about what happened earlier in the day. You don't have to worry about how finely you dice the vegetables or is the sauce is thickened to perfection. You can add a little too much spice and then counter with some cream. Cooking is not the moment for perfection. It's a moment for adaptation and laughing as you have to do so.

On a bad day, being in the kitchen is a solo experience. It's making pizza dough or cookie dough. It's measuring precisely. It's kneading the dough, tossing it roughly. It's throwing spices together, stirring, mixing too fast, without caution. It's using all of your focus and energy, directing it to a specific goal. It's taking that feeling from the day, that loss, that moment where you're not good enough and saying Yes I am.

Because in the kitchen, it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter who you are or what you've done. It doesn't matter if you're good, better or best. In the kitchen you don't have to compare. You don't have to feel compared to. You just have to cook. You just have to bake, whether you use your own recipe or someone elses.

You don't have to compare yourself to anyone else in the kitchen. Of course, you could. The food channels do, with their competitions and Iron Chefs and Chopped. But in your own kitchen, it doesn't matter. Those shows are entertainment, a way to get recipe ideas. In your kitchen, you don't have to worry about the outside world. It's not about who's better, who's the best because no matter what you're creating something. And if you don't create exactly what you imagined, you've still created something. You've still taken the calming breathes, you've gone through the motions. You can take the time to salvage a dish with a little patience and creativity.

In the kitchen you can learn the secrets to life. Patience and a little creativity.

When I'm cooking I don't compare myself to anyone else. There are plenty of professional chefs in the world who have studied for years and I feel no need to worry about it. My kitchen is my place. My kitchen is where I can goof around or where I can be serious and relieve stress.

It doesn't matter. That's what cooking does for me. It reminds me that life isn't about good, better, or best. It's about trying and pushing through. It's about being better but not about being better than anyone else. Life is tough and needs a bit of perspective sometimes. That's what cooking can do. At least for me. I think everyone has that space, be it in the kitchen, in an art studio or behind a lap top typing up a storm.

For me, cooking brings me back to myself. I haven't cooked much since being home and I realize I need to. It's part of who I am and reminds me of the rest.

--Raspberry Truffle

Stress Eating vs. Stress Cooking

When stressed, many people eat. They eat desserts and savory fried goods. Honestly I do too. There's something about eating that releases endorphins. It just makes everything seem better... At least temporarily... Before you count the calories or step onto the scale. I hate calories and I hate scales... Not necessarily in that order.

I love food. I really, really love food. But, at a certain point, stress eating takes the enjoyment out of food. You become a vacumn, sucking in vacant calories, eating just to be doing something besides worrying. After a while, you stop tasting things, even your favorites. And honestly, what's the point in that? What's the point in consuming just to consume? I often eat to distract myself. I use it as a way to focus on something else, to focus on anything but what is really bothering me. But, it stops working.

The trouble with eating in stress is that food becomes a tool. You stop tasting and experiencing. I know that I lose myself in a pint of ice cream. I can eat the entire thing, the whole time thinking happy thoughts and then it's gone and I feel bad again. I worry again. The food is only temporary...

I have recently discovered another method of dealing with the evil S word. When I get stressed out, I cook. I bake. I play with my food rather than simply eating it.

Stress cooking, for me, still tends to end in stress eating, but not nearly as much as before.

Stress cooking is a relaxing exercise for me. When I start to cook I have to focus on cutting, dicing, chopping, stirring. I focus on making sure there is a good blend of spices and that the temperature is just right on the oven. There are small details that hold my attention. I get to be creative. While cooking I can focus on cooking, on the steps to make a meal. I can play with my food.

Cooking holds my stress at bay. And as I do each step, as I dice the onion, slice the mushrooms and peppers, spice the poultry, as I sautee and season, I find perspective. It reminds me that even life is just one step at a time. You can't rush. You can't skip ahead. You just have to follow logic and get creative sometimes.

Cooking and baking are like that. You can take your time and relax. Worst case scenario you start over. Best, you share a wonderful meal or a fluffy cake with friends and family. That's what I like about cooking. The results generally lead to sharing and laughing; which is a surefire way to let down your hair and blow off additional steam.

Cooking lets me focus on something else for a little while. But more importantly when you're done you have something to show for your efforts. All of the focus and effort result in something you can eat, something you can share. I love sharing what I make, especially after a stressful day. It lets me relax and doesn't let me dwell on what's causing the stress.

And when I'm done cooking, the concentration and effort normally make whatever has caused me stress seem less unsurmountable. The mountain seems more like a mole hill. And sometimes I need that. Perspective. Stress requires perspective, the knowledge that anything can be dealt with just a step at a time.

And then you get to EAT your stress relief! :D

-Raspberry Truffle