The bit at the bottom

I love cooking. Baking, too, though I’m told by professional chefs that these are two very different skill-sets. The former involves creativity and experimentation, the latter is science and beauty. Yet to me, both activities are kitchen witchery.

There’s something magical about cooking and baking. You take ingredients from all parts of the planet, combine them skillfully, add heat or cold or motion — and ta da! A dish appears. You can transform the remnants of meat sticking to the bottom of a hot pan into a smooth and silky sauce. Combine cornstarch, vanilla, butter, sugar, eggs and milk in a pot and the concoction will transmogrify into a thick and delicious pudding. Pour heavy cream into a cold stainless steel bowl, whip it into shape and the liquid becomes a delectable, fluffy cloud.

Serving food to others is also an enchanting experience. Friends and family, why, they already adore you. But wake ’em up with the smell of freshly baked bread or cinnamon rolls, and love will fill their hearts. Hand ’em a mug of steaming tea or coffee or cocoa on an frigid winter’s day, and you’ll warm their bodies. Sit ’em down over a holiday table, and the food you serve will not only feed their stomachs, it’ll create traditions and memories.

The best part of edible alchemy occurs when no one is looking, for that’s when I revel in the secrets of cookery. Inside the kitchen, I make music out of banging pots and clinking silverware. I use the colors and shapes of ingredients to create art on a plate. With herbs, spices and salts, I intensify the flavors of food. And before any meal is served, I take a moment to enjoy the bit at the bottom: the gritty, chocolate brownie batter; the smooth, warm comfort of custard; the last dollop of creamy mashed potatoes still sticking to the wooden spoon. That tasty morsel is all mine.

(Photo by Humusak2. Used with permission.)