My name is Wilson. I have been an eater for my entire life and a cook for nearly that long. I love it, but I’m not great, just an enthusiastic and adventurous dumbass, more competent strummer than budding virtuoso. Oh I’ve done some things–pressed homemade pasta, cultured sourdough from potatoes, canned my own raspberry jam, actually used cheesecloth for its official purpose, and squeezed out more than a few sausages. (Oh the sausage fests I could tell you about…wait, what?)
I don’t so much follow recipes as try to glean their guiding principles–I want to carry the tune, not memorize the sheet music. Everything generally comes out okay, and when it doesn’t, more reason to do it all over again. Still, I know that I’ll never grasp that last 10% of taste that makes horn-rimmed foodies explode with flavorgasm, that makes wine punks mention cat urine with a straight face, that makes a great chef something more than the guy or gal boiling your spaghetti.
So this is not about all that. It’s about trial and error, about asking questions, finding some answers, sharing the knowledge that I back my way into, and just, you know, keeping a record of the stuff I make and try.
It really comes down to this: Even after a long day of work, I can grab an onion and my 10″ cook’s knife and start slicing. Suddenly my head clears, my blood pressure lowers, and 20 minutes, or an hour, or five hours later, when the reverie ends and the food appears, I get something to eat. You know, you make it, you eat it, enough already!