Falling in love with the things I used to hate
These days, I’ve been cooking almost every day. Sometimes, even twice a day.
However, even at the beginning of this year, if you told me to cook, I would’ve laughed it off and ordered delivery, because I used to be allergic to cooking.
And honestly, the reason felt valid.
Cooking takes time and effort, yet it only takes me 15 minutes to finish the food.
Then I have to clean up, wash the utensils, wipe the stove, and the list goes on.
In the end, I just felt the ROI was not worth it:
Two hours of preparation and cleaning for 15 minutes of mediocre food.
Mediocre, because back then, I was never able to make tasty food for myself.
I thought I wasn’t cut out for it, and I didn’t want to spend time learning how to cook.
So I gave up on it.
I told myself, “Cooking is just not my thing.”
However, in the past two months, though, something shifted.
At first, I started with fried eggs.
Nothing ambitious. Just eggs and rice.
Then I added toppings. Then sides.
Then, different variations of eggs with sides.
And at some point, it began to click.
It was interesting to realise that I can use the same ingredients, but get different flavours just by changing the spices.
Or I can use the same spices, but end up with completely different dishes if I change the ingredients.
Cooking became a new obsession for me.
I no longer feel that it is troublesome.
Every time I have to cook, I see it as a playground where I can whip up new formulas, test tiny variations, and come up with random stuff that may or may not work. It felt like I was playing a game.
Sometimes it turns out great.
Sometimes it’s just okay.
But I notice I no longer resent the effort.
I began to enjoy it.
Looking back, I realised something important:
Maybe I didn’t actually hate cooking itself.
Maybe I hated being bad at it.
I hated spending so much time on something that didn’t taste good.
I hated feeling clumsy and unsure of what I was doing.
So I labelled it as “not for me” and moved on.
I found valid excuses, and believed it with all my heart.
But the moment I allowed myself to stay with it a bit longer, start small, and play, the story changed. The time spent in the kitchen didn’t feel like a waste anymore.
It started to feel like a way of taking care of myself, one simple plate at a time.
And now I’m wondering:
How many other things in my life did I decide I “hate?”
When in reality, I just never stayed long enough to get past the awkward beginning?
I hope you find this insightful. Remember:
It’s not going to be easy,
But it’s not impossible.
Your friend,
Brian.