The Alchemy of Cooking

I wrote this some time ago, but I've decided it should be my first food writing blog entry, as it epitomises my love of cooking and the kind of articles I want to share with the world. 

Sundays have a restorative quality and winter Sundays are even more magical.

As the weather turned wet and cold today, I found myself in the kitchen peeling and chopping root vegetables and creating a huge pan of fragrant roasted vegetables, liberally seasoned with all manner of dried herbs and drizzled with olive oil.

With that winter warmer started, I then put on a pot of black-eyed peas. Seeing the sizzle of onions and smelling the scent of turmeric, garlic and paprika is one of those pleasures that does not fade with exposure. As I stirred the dish, the piquant smell of bay leaves flooded my senses. (Using bay leaves is a family tradition.)

The smell of these dishes, and the feelings of warmth that pervade home, hearth and soul are almost indescribable. They are best experienced.

Being from South Western America—Tucson, Arizona to be exact—I have noticed some differences since arriving in Melbourne, Australia:

1. I tend to start humming Christmas carols in June and, to be honest, it’s much harder to get into the Christmas spirit when people are wearing sandals and t-shirts!
2. There seem to be more stars. I don’t know if it’s because I live in the virtual whoop whoop of Cranbourne, or whether there are just fewer lights to interrupt my view, but it’s so uplifting to breathe in the crisp, cool air of the garden while gazing into a canopy of celestial delights.

But whatever else I’ve noticed, the basic alchemy of cooking remains unchanged:

    A pinch of this,
    A dash of that,
    Voilà.
    Cooking magic.