Cooking Passion: Finding (and Losing) Myself in the Kitchen Through Food

Cooking Passion: Finding (and Losing) Myself in the Kitchen Through Food

The kitchen was once my sanctuary. In that place, the world outside melted away. My hands found purpose in the rhythm of creation. Fueled by a cooking passion, it wasn’t just about sustenance. It was a vibrant, multi-faceted passion that consumed me. It ranged from the first delicate slice of an appetizer to the final flourish on a towering dessert. I loved it all. I dove headfirst into cuisines from every corner of the globe. Each dish was a new adventure. It was a new language to learn.

Video Recreation of the Incident

Table of contents

Grief in the Kitchen: A Love Story Told Through Food (And Its Heartbreaking End)

The act of cooking held a deeply meditative quality for me. The chopping, the stirring, the kneading of dough – these repetitive motions were a balm to the soul. In the focused heat of the stove, my mind would clear. The quiet hum of the oven brought a sense of peace and presence. As Zen master Tenkei advised, I learned to “See with your eyes.” Smell with your nose. Taste with your tongue. This approach helped when cooking 1, fully inhabiting the physical process. It was a practice and not merely a task. Tricycle: The Buddhist Review describes how mindful cooking can be “an opportunity for peace.”

Cooking Passion Was My Meditation

But the true magic, indeed, the deepest well of joy, came from sharing. There is, after all, a profound pleasure in translating ingredients and effort into something that brings happiness to others. For instance, I saw a smile spread across a face. Moreover, hearing a sigh of contentment further enhanced my experience. Ultimately, witnessing the simple, yet pure pleasure my food provided was, indeed, the ultimate reward.

If you are a chef, no matter how good a chef you are, it’s not good cooking for yourself; the joy is in cooking for others. 2

-Will.i.am

I expressed my care and affection through an act of giving. As M.F.K. Fisher beautifully wrote, “It seems to me that our three basic needs, for food and security and love, are so mixed and mingled and entwined that we cannot straightly think of one without the others.“2 Through my cooking, I conveyed that intertwining.

From the Mundane to the Intricate and Back Again

My culinary journey was rich and varied, a tapestry woven with flavors and techniques from around the world. I delved into the history behind some of the dishes I prepared. Take challah, the beautiful braided bread central to Shabbat and Jewish holidays. Its roots trace back to ancient Israel. A portion of dough was offered to priests 3. This tradition underscores its sacred significance.

Beef Wellington

Then there was the majestic Beef Wellington, a dish often associated with the Duke of Wellington’s victory at Waterloo. However, its exact origins are debated, creating a fascinating narrative around this culinary masterpiece. Nevertheless, it evolved from the French filet de boeuf en croute. This dish showcases the delightful combination of tender beef encased in a flaky pastry. It also includes mushrooms and, for the traditionalists like me, a healthy slab of foie gras. Interestingly, it was renamed to honor the Duke, a testament to the dish’s esteemed status among British culinary traditions.

The preparation of Beef Wellington involves a meticulous process. The beef is carefully seared. Then, it is coated with a mixture of mushrooms and pâté. Finally, it is enveloped in pastry. This intricate layering not only adds depth of flavor. It also elevates its presentation. This makes it a centerpiece for festive occasions and celebrations. The allure of Beef Wellington lies not just in its taste. It also resides in the stories it carries. These stories connect modern diners to historical events and the sophistication of classic cuisine.

Peking Duck

This evolution showcases how dishes can transform and acquire new meanings over time, reflecting cultural shifts and culinary innovations. Similarly, Peking Duck is renowned for its impossibly crisp skin. It boasts a rich history stretching back to the imperial courts of the Yuan Dynasty. During this time, it was meticulously prepared and served to satisfy the most discerning palates.

Originally, it was a dish reserved for emperors and the elite. It symbolized wealth and prestige. This was due to the elaborate cooking techniques and presentation involved. Over the centuries, dynasties changed and social structures evolved. Peking Duck became a beloved culinary icon among all layers of society.

It evolved into a symbol of Chinese culinary artistry and became a staple at celebratory feasts. Its preparation is a masterful dance of flavors and intricate cooking methods. This mastery continues to captivate chefs and food lovers alike. It ensures that it remains an enduring testament to China’s rich gastronomic heritage.

Croquembouche

And the stunning Croquembouche is a conical tower of choux puffs bound by threads of caramel. It is a classic French patisserie centerpiece perfected by Antonin Carême in the late 18th century 4. This dessert is a true test of skill and patience. Other ambitious roasts included a fig-stuffed pork loin. Succulent racks of lamb were presented as a crown. There was even the legendary Beggar’s Chicken. This dish requires a clay or mud crust to seal in the flavors during slow cooking. These weren’t just recipes; they were edible stories, connecting me to history and culture.

Overcoming Cooking Challenges and Obstacles

Baking presented its own unique challenges. These were especially notable when attempting it at high altitudes. Kirkwood, California, offers a beautiful but lofty environment. The reduced atmospheric pressure means leavening agents work faster and liquids evaporate more quickly. This required careful adjustments. One needed to decrease baking powder and sugar while increasing liquid and sometimes flour. Additionally, the oven temperature was often increased slightly to set the structure before it over expands and dries out 5. It was a science experiment as much as an art form, demanding precision and a willingness to adapt.

Embracing the Unfamiliar

Cooking in unfamiliar kitchens also honed my ability to improvise. Whether on vacation or visiting friends, I often found myself in spaces with scarce tools. Sometimes, they weren’t where I expected them to be. This necessitated creativity, using whatever was at hand to achieve the desired result. A wine bottle can become a rolling pin, a sturdy mug a mortar and pestle. It was a reminder that at its heart, cooking is about resourcefulness and making do.

Cooking requires confident guesswork and improvisation – experimentation and substitution, dealing with failure and uncertainty in a creative way.6

–Paul Theroux

Sometimes, despite the best planning, you’d realize a key ingredient was missing, or you couldn’t find it anywhere. In the past, this caused panic, but I learned to see it as an opportunity. What else will work? What new flavor combination will arise from this unexpected detour? This necessity became the mother of culinary invention, pushing me to explore and create something entirely new.

The more you know, the more you can create. There’s no end to imagination in the kitchen.

– Julia Child 6

The Kid Gourmet & Lutèce

My love for creating in the kitchen started at a very young age, particularly with desserts. When I was five or six years old, my family knew me as the designated dessert maker. This role was for our big family gatherings, especially for holidays like Passover and Rosh Hashanah. Growing up, I would eagerly tackle cakes, delicate chocolate mousse, and other delectable treats. This early specialization even led to a memorable, almost apocryphal, family story.

Lutèce From a Kids Perspective

When I was about five years old, my mother took me to lunch. It was at the renowned French restaurant Lutèce in New York. I dressed up in my little Eton suit, feeling quite important. I behaved well throughout the meal, absorbing the elegant atmosphere. When dessert time came, the waiter described the offerings. He used a charming French accent that I couldn’t quite place at that age. My young heart settled on chocolate mousse. I leaned over to my mother and whispered a question. The waiter noticed my curiosity. He kindly encouraged me to ask him directly. I was treated with the surprising adulthood that I adored. He looked at me intently, as if I were the most important customer in the room. I took a breath and asked, “Is the whipped cream real?”

Impression on the Wait Staff

The waiter momentarily took a step back, a look of flabbergasted delight spreading across his face. With a flourish, he responded, “Absolument!” Beaming with excitement, he repeated in amazement, “Can you believe an American boy? Can you believe a young American boy would ask?” He eagerly called over the other waiters and staff. They exchanged animated words in French, pointing at me, laughing, and one even picked me up and hugged me.

They seemed genuinely overjoyed. It was as if my simple, earnest question had revealed some profound truth about the appreciation of good food. My mother, of course, was beaming with pride throughout the scene. After a few minutes, the excitement subsided, and operations returned to normal. When they brought out my chocolate mousse, my eyes widened in disbelief. It wasn’t a small serving but a massive bowl of chocolate mousse. It was accompanied by a humongous bowl filled with fresh, real whipped cream. The pastry chef personally brought it out. I was in heaven.

The Proof Was in the Pudding

I had a deep passion and developed significant skill. Despite those early experiences with fine dining, I never felt the pull to become a professional chef. The demanding hours, the high-pressure environment, the commercial aspect – it wasn’t what fueled me. My motivation was always far more personal. I wanted to push my own abilities. Aiming to master a new technique. Wanting to execute a complex recipe successfully just to see if I can. It was about the process of learning and growth, the quiet satisfaction of a challenge met.

Nourishing Loved Ones

But even more so, I found joy in bringing happiness to my friends and family, especially my husband, David. Their pleasure measured my success. James Beard said, “The secret of good cooking is, first, having a love of it. If you’re convinced that cooking is drudgery, you’re never going to be good at it…” For me, that love intrinsically linked to nurturing those I cared about. Anthony Bourdain, despite his professional life, captured its essence, stating, “Anyone who’s a chef, who loves food, ultimately knows that all that matters is: ‘Is it good? Does it give pleasure?'”6 My kitchen became a space of personal expression and shared happiness, not a potential place of business.

I always cooked for us. Creating dishes for him, finding joy in the way his face would light up with each new, more complex creation. I undertook elaborate Beef Wellingtons. I making perfectly crispy Peking Duck. Creating intricate Croquembouche. Doing all this just to see him beam with happiness and appreciation. We shared this experience, building our life together one delicious meal at a time. As Alice Waters noted, “Food can be very transformational, and it can be more than just about a dish… And if you fall in love, well, then everything is easy.”7 My kitchen served as a testament to that love, a place where I nourished and celebrated our connection.

The Kitchen is Closed for Good

And this is where the story takes a heartbreaking turn. All of this cooking, this passion, this joy fueled by seeing another’s pleasure – it is all in the past. It pains me deeply to say that I no longer have any will or desire to do this ever again. The kitchen was once vibrant. It was filled with laughter and the aroma of spices. Now it feels like a hollow shell of what it used to be.

My husband, David, took that vibrant and essential piece of me. He asked for a divorce. I was left adrift in a sea of uncertainty and sorrow. He has caused our once bright and hopeful dreams to crumble. Now, I find myself questioning everything I once believed in.

My cooking was always for us. It was for him, the love of my life. He would light up at the sight of a freshly baked loaf. A pasta dish simmering on the stove would delight him as well. Without “us,” without him to share it with, the fire has simply gone out, leaving behind only ashes of memories. The meditative calm feels empty. The creative challenges lack their spark. The thought of seeing someone else’s reaction brings a fresh wave of sadness. It is akin to tasting a sweet dish that has lost its flavor.

The Now Silent Kitchen

It’s a quiet grief. It resides in the now-silent kitchen. It lingers amidst the unused pots and pans that once rang with laughter and conversation. Each utensil is a reminder of cherished moments. I stand there, staring into the void of what once was. I yearn to recreate those beautiful experiences. Yet, I feel utterly lost in this solitude that envelops me like a thick fog.

It wasn’t about being happy or unhappy. I just didn’t want to be me anymore.8

– Sarah Dessen

The “me” who loved to cook was intertwined so deeply with the “us.” However this separation extinguished that part of my identity. As the poet Pablo Neruda wrote, “To eat alone is a very bitter thing.”8 Losing the desire to cook altogether feels like an even deeper solitude.

I feel incredibly sad to acknowledge the absence of a passion that once defined me. But that is the truth of it. My kitchen was once a space full of lively conversations and aromas. It has now fallen silent. It serves as a poignant reminder of a love story that I narrated through food.

Share this Article

Further Reading List

  • The Gastronomical Me by M.F.K. Fisher
  • Kitchen Confidential by Anthony Bourdain
  • The Art of Simple Food by Alice Waters
  • My Life in France by Julia Child
  • Salt, Fat, Acid, Heat by Samin Nosrat
  • Tender at the Bone: Growing Up at the Table by Ruth Reichl

Footnotes

  1. Zen master Tenkei, as quoted in “The Joy of Mindful Cooking.” Tricycle: The Buddhist Review. ↩︎
  2. M.F.K. Fisher. The Gastronomical Me. ↩︎
  3. Kosherline. “Challah Bread: The History, Symbolism, and Kosher Significance.” ↩︎
  4. Brunetti Oro. “What to Know About Croquembouche.” ↩︎
  5. King Arthur Baking. “High-Altitude Baking.” ↩︎
  6. “Anthony Bourdain Quotes.” BrainyQuote.com. BrainyMedia Inc, 2025. 19 May 2025. https://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/anthony_bourdain_552958 ↩︎
  7. “Alice Waters Quotes.” BrainyQuote.com. BrainyMedia Inc, 2025. 19 May 2025. https://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/alice_waters_624657 ↩︎
  8. The Big Tablecloth Pablo Neruda ↩︎

Food Posts

Discover more from Alex Westerman

Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.

Subscribe
Notify of

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

2 Comments
Oldest
Newest Most Voted
Inline Feedbacks
View all comments