Food "Processing"

There is so much that is uncertain.

Only seeing the sheer volume of information pouring out truly captures the enormity of our collective anxiety. Every single page of every newspaper is about COVID–the latest case count, the loss to human life, the havoc its wreaked to our institutions and long-held cultural values, reports of how we’re coping, opinions on the consequences of the devastation, and overzealous speculations of what the future “normal” will look like. The onslaught of information is never-ending. We’re drowning in it. Every conversation is about it. Every article, tweet, meme–you name it–is about it. There’s no facet of life left untouched by the pandemic’s wake, no moment in the day its omnipresence unfelt.

There is so much to process. Too much. Cooking helps.

Chopping cilantro. Whisking eggs. Punching down dough. Sautéing onions. Grinding spices. Yes, cooking helps me feel in control when control feels out of reach. Yes, it gives me something to do when I feel too helpless to do anything else. Yes, it’s fulfilling to use my hands to make something out of nothing. But above all else, the physical motions of breaking down and transforming raw ingredients offer me release. The process matters far more than the outcome.

Cooking helps me process all the things I can’t say, all the things I wish I could but don’t know how. As I cook, I work through the complex feelings raging inside me–the fear, anxiety, and uncertainty. Without uttering a single word, I give my fluctuating mental state a direction to dissipate. It’s an emotional process as much as a physical one.

So much of what’s being put out in the world is “us” trying to wrap our heads around life under the grips of this pandemic. How eager we are to slap a definitive label on this surreal episode–to either put this messy business behind us and get on with our “normal” lives, or to kiss our former lives goodbye and accept that nothing will ever be the same again. I’m not mentally prepared to confront either scenario.

And so, I cook. A lot of people are cooking right now. By all accounts, cooking is seeing more action than it has in decades. Lines at Disneyland have nothing on lines at the grocery store.[1] Nationwide shortages have become the rule more than the exception.[2] Flour and yeast sales are through the roof, far surpassing peak holiday baking season.[3] Hundreds, if not thousands, of newborn baby sourdough starters have sprung up in recent weeks, growing in numbers with each passing day spent in lockdown.[4] We are all looking for ways to process.

Cooking doesn’t force my mental state into a box. It’s not trying to define what I’m going through as anything except what it is. It reminds me that what I’ve done today is enough. I’m working through this, whatever this is. Sure, seeing my finished handiwork will always be rewarding, but right now, the road to getting there–the process–is the whole point.

—

[1] Sam Whiting and Matt Kawahara. “Coronavirus: Long lines at grocery stores but extra care for seniors, sanitation”. San Francisco Chronicle, March 23, 2020. https://www.sfchronicle.com/bayarea/article/Coronavirus-Long-lines-at-grocery-stores-but-15149685.php.

[2] Rebecca Jennings. “The macabre comfort of coronavirus stockpiling videos.” Vox, Mar 6, 2020. https://www.vox.com/the-goods/2020/3/6/21167041/coronavirus-stockpile-prepare-video-tiktok.

[3] “Closures, Takeout, and Relief Efforts: How Food Businesses Nationwide Are Handling Coronavirus.” Bon Appétit, April 24, 2020. The Staff. https://www.bonappetit.com/story/food-businesses-covid-19.

[4] Bettina Makalintal. “Where is Everyone Getting All of This Sourdough Starter All of a Sudden?” Vice, March 30, 2020. https://www.vice.com/en_us/article/pke4dm/where-is-everyone-getting-all-of-this-sourdough-starter-all-of-a-sudden