In his acclaimed masterpiece Walden, Henry David Thoreau writes, "He who distinguishes the true savor of his food can never be a glutton; he who does not cannot be otherwise."
Thoreau penned this thought in 1854, but the basic idea of truly savoring food transcends time, remaining true even in a society built around convenient foods. What's on your plate is more than "good carbs" and "bad carbs."
It's the ammunition for battle in competitions like Iron Chef and fuel for its own sector of the entertainment industry - complete with a cable television channel.
It's a part of religious sacraments and physically reaffirms someone's devotion to his or her spiritual beliefs.
Journalist Elizabeth Gilbert even finds some post-divorce happiness scarfing down the best food Italy has to offer (without much calorie-counting guilt) in her memoir Eat, Pray, Love.
Food isn't just for eating. It never has been. But when do we quit our robotic eating habits and truly have a culinary experience?
When we cook it ourselves. Or, at least, that's what I'm hoping.
I'm a cooking novice. As in, a college student whose knowledge of preparing a meal doesn't go much farther than the back of the box it came in. To my credit, I'm probably a better toastmaker and popcorn popper than Charlie Brown at Thanksgiving, but that's not saying much.
So here's my mid-year resolution: Fix at least two new items per week - either entrees, appetizers, or desserts. And, for your enjoyment, I'll post my results - no matter whether I succeed or burn the kitchen down.
