The morning after, and other reasons cooking is an easy habit to fall out of.

I mentioned in the last post that I haven’t been cooking much. This hasn’t changed, but I’m digging myself out and back into the game. Or trying to. It turns out that, no matter how much I enjoy cooking, it’s an extremely easy habit for me to fall out of. A natural born chef, I am not.

The simplest reason, of three I shall list, for why I revert to old, non-cooking habits, is that Bill and I are really bad at following a plan, especially in the throes of “spring fever”. The other day I had a dinner plan, had started a small amount of prep for it, and then walked to Bill’s work to pick him up. And then we said, “Let’s take a walk!” So we did. We walked for an hour or two, basically in some direction that was not toward our house (I don’t recall which direction, precisely). Suddenly we were very hungry and much farther from our house than expected. Dinner was going to take at least another half hour to cook, and that’s after the walk back. We settled in for something we liked outside the house.

Which leads to the second part of why it’s so easy for me to fall out of the habit of cooking. We’re surrounded by places that would love to give Bill and I really lovely cooked food, and do the dishes, in exchange for our money. If I were surrounded by less good food, or if I had to wash the dishes more often, I bet I’d cook at home more. I didn’t when I was in places with mediocre food, but I also didn’t really cook back then (and even with mediocre food, I didn’t have to do the dishes).

Finally, there’s the morning after:

This is the morning after my most recent foray into the kitchen. These photos were taken the morning of 21 April 2011, after Bill and I ate dinner with our friend, T1. She brought a fabulous garlic cheese and a lovely bottle of wine, a 2007 Pinotage from Wildekrans, which she and I split over the course of appetizers (the cheese and some crackers) and dinner (Spaghetti with Spanish-Style Meatballs with braised turnip greens for a side).

It was a fabulous evening, but the mess it made! A little astounding, I have to admit. And this from someone who really does clean as I go, to the best of my ability. So, I woke up the next morning to a pile of dishes.

Dishes are probably my least favorite household cleaning task. Cleaning the bathroom is worse, but it doesn’t happen multiple times a day.

It makes cooking seem, occasionally, like it’s not worth it.

fn1. This is actually her nickname, though I don’t think she minds the use of her real name. I just forget who’s being spoken of when anyone calls her anything but “T”.