Never quite follows the recipe. Doesn't really measure. Tastes with her fingers. Somehow, it always works.

Meet a Happy Fat Kid.

Posted: January 21st, 2008 | Author: johanna | Filed under: Johanna | 1 Comment »

I’ve had this blog for almost a year, and I haven’t posted yet. I’m not sure why. Probably, honestly, because I’ve been remarkably lazy about blog posts in general. I spend all day staring at a computer at work, so when I get home, I don’t want to necessarily stare at a computer to blog.

But I’m going to, because it helps me to focus my energies, and I have something to look back at when I’m afraid I’ll never be living my dream.

I’m 23. I live in Brooklyn. I work a desk job in finance, and 4 days a week I’m a nanny. By some gift of fate, I ended up nannying for a food family, so I have someone to talk to about cooking and food anytime I’m at work. I have a wonderful boyfriend, who’s a bit of a foodie himself, who will eat whatever I cook and watch the food network with me all day on our days off.

I’m not a great cook, but I’m a good one, and I love to cook for people. In a strange way, I would rather cook for people than eat with them, but I suppose that explains why I’m only a happy fat kid on the inside. I’m not trained, except from watching tv and reading cookbooks (which I do all the time); I don’t really know the difference between simmering and boiling, I’m not sure about the difference between “mince” and “dice”, I’ve only just learned what it means to “sweat” garlic, and I definitely need to have my knives sharpened sometime soon, before I do myself serious injury. Some days I get home from work and all I feel like doing is opening up a bottle of wine, grabbing a book and a grilled cheese sandwich, and heading for my bed — I’m not all that dedicated to cooking every single night. But some nights, when the day has been long, and my soul is tired and hungry, what I want to do is make the food that I know my heart is crying for. Sometimes, when there’s an occasion, I’ll splash out and buy something expensive like fresh tuna steaks, and do something fancy. When I know that my boyfriend and I have the apartment to ourselves for a night, or a weekend, or whatever, I’ll plan something nice, but something homey – roast chicken, hamburgers, risotto, homemade bread, something like this. We both have a serious appreciation for restaurant food, but when it’s just the two of us, sometimes it’s nice to have a sort-of date, a sort-of harbinger of things to come.
But in the end, I’m not too picky, because the ideal breakfast for me is a slice of cold pizza, with a cup of coffee, hot or cold, fresh or not.

I love to cook for people for several reasons, and most of them are selfish. I love knowing that I’ve made something that makes whoever I’m feeding happy. I love seeing the “mmmmm” face that someone makes when they eat something that I’ve worked hard on for them – I love watching them totally shut off and just display their enjoyment, without filters or controls, eyes shut, big grin, mouth full. I also love not having to do dishes, because generally when I cook for people, they feel obligated to clean up. And what’s better than that?



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