In most aspects of my life, I am a leader. Or at least, a do your own thing-er. One exception is cooking and baking. With cooking and baking, I am a follower. I follow recipes to a very precise tea…spoon.
But not today. Today I was hungry and I improvised. Today I turned quinoa into oatmeal and it was delicious. I felt healthy and nourished and proud because I wasn’t a follower. I didn’t have a recipe or a blog post that inspired me because I was simply led by hunger and an aversion to leftovers, and without enough cash dollars for Seamless.
So I took some cooked quinoa and added maple syrup and cinnamon and nutmeg and almond milk and almond butter and when I took that first bite it was thrilling because it came from my brain and my hands. I did it. I did it so hard it inspired run-on sentences.
I immediately took to Facebook to share the recipe with a paleo-conscious friend. And then I wanted to turn in into a recipe. And then I realized how hard it must be to turn intuition into fractions. To turn a love of cinnamon into 1/8 of a teaspoon. Or “Hmm, that looks right,” into 1/8 cup of almond milk.
And then I was even more thankful for the chefs and bakers and bloggers that write cookbooks and recipes.
And then I wondered how the hell they do it.
And then I imagined the chef or baker or blogger grinding as much cinnamon as they love into an empty bowl and then measuring it for me. So that I could learn.
And then I wondered if they ever hate the followers because we rob them of the freedom of their intuition.
And then I stopped this train of thought and just ate my quinoa-meal. I rested in the satisfaction that I don’t have to share it. I don’t have to convert it into a recipe because it is mine and mine alone and that is fine.
And then I came here to share my desire to not share. Because, what else would I do?
Bon apetit, everyone. Give your cookbook a hug.
My Life is Greige 