Learning to Cook Again

Much like having a kid, Project food blog has been all about getting me out of my comfort zone.


Jake and I were married for 6 years before we had Amaya. We were practically living a hip bachelor's life. I remember when we lived in the city we would hop down to the corner ramen shop just because we felt like it. Or we would go to a movie that started at 9pm. We would even occasionally stay up late talking with friends.
Oh, we were so young.

We had the silly idea that this might continue when we had a kid. We thought babies just slept all the time and hardly cared about anything except loving you.

It's funny how something as simple as labor and 8 pound baby changes everything.

When I did start cooking again, much much much after having her, every baking project gave new meaning to the word "project". She refused to be left alone in her chair while I patiently sifted and mixed. She hollered to be picked up and played with when I just wanted to eat something that required a little saute-ing instead of microwaving. I spent many nights cooking with her strapped in the baby carrier. As she got older her hands got too close to the hot stoves and sharp knives.

We brought her to restaurants and left terrible impressions. I distinctly remember one difficult dinner which climaxed into a glass of spilled ice water all over the table and the floor. Her frustrated cries echoed through the dining area while we argued whether or not we should get dessert (I'll give you one guess as to who thought we should).

Now she's much easier at restaurants. Mostly. And we're a little wiser. But she's still just as wiggly and whiny while I cook. She's like me; the smells and sounds of cooking make her think she needs to eat. Now. Unfortunately, her mother is the slowest cook in the world. So she starts opening the fridge, rummaging through the cupboards, asking me for candy. The only way to keep her quiet is to let her in to my place of peace: the kitchen.

I generally don't like cooking with anyone unless it's just about me helping them. If I'm in charge, I hate thinking of things for them to do. My brain is running through the processes and splitting it up with someone who isn't just completely in sync with my thought pretty much ruins the whole experience for me. Jake and I can work side by side when we're making a meal we know all the parts to by heart. My mom and I found a syncopated rhythm when she was here last. But generally, it's so hard for me to turn a cooking process into a conversation rather than a monologue. And when I'm cooking with my daughter, that's exactly what I have to do. Even worse, I have to monitor what she is doing, because she's good at finding a way to mess up my vision of food.
But that's what having a kid is all about. Including them in your space even though they mess it up a little. And then you figure out that the little bit of inconvenience is much more interesting.



When I'm old and she's still young, we'll be cooking Momofuku dishes side by side, and I'll probably talk about these days like it was a new discovery for both of us. I probably won't remember that I scolded her for eating the baking powder. I'll probably think we loved every minute of it.

The one thing I'll remember that I know will be true, is that she learned how to cook from me.


Superfood Smoothie
If you’re familiar with Odwalla Superfood, that’s what this tastes like. Exactly. Clean, pillowy thick, and unidentifiably fruity. I think the strongest fruit is mango once you know it’s in there. I’ve substituted nectarines and plums for peaches with the same result. We experimented and made it into popsicles. Yes! Who doesn’t like a green popsicle?

• 1 frozen banana
• 1 peach, sliced and frozen
• 1 Cup mango puree (frozen is better)
• 1 apple, peeled, cored and chopped
• 2 tsp Spirulina

Blend up all the fruit first, then add the Spirulina (while running the blender). Blend more, and serve. If you have to add juice, I would say apple juice. Just a touch. (This is unnecessary if you have the super cool blender that your mother-in-law left you when she moved, you lucky dog.)

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