There’s always been something so glamorous about cooking. There need not be a stiletto in your closet if you have the capability to feed your lover delicious food. I don’t mean it in the sense of “Woman, make me a sandwich!” I mean that people fall in love around food probably more than anything else. Think of how many dinners we share with people on dates. We get dressed up, cook someone a meal/go to a fancy restaurant, and eat wonderful food with someone we hope to find a connection with.
Except when it all goes horribly wrong. Tonight, I made Julia Child’s nectarine chiffon upside down cake. It took me an hour from start to finish (not including the immense cleanup process) and I was tremendously excited. I took it out of the oven with the intention of letting it cool. I allowed myself to take a tiny bite from the corner…and realized that it tasted of bad vegetable oil. So I went to the cupboard and smelled the bottle. How could I not have noticed that it smelled like fish before I added it to the batter? I felt like Julie Powell in the film Julie & Julia…like I needed to crouch in the corner of the kitchen and have a “meltdown.” All the glamour was gone. Plus I was having cramps.
But tomorrow, the glamour of cooking will be back and I’ll be as happy as ever trying to bake something else. And tonight, I realized the wonder of the hot fudge sundae.