The Mindful Cook: Finding Awareness, Simplicity, and Freedom in the Kitchen
by Isaac Cronin
Villard, 224 pp., $19.95 Here’s one little book with the power to completely and permanently transform the way you cook and think about food, share meals, and even eat. In fact, The Mindful Cook might even change who you are.
“Yeah, right,” you’re probably thinking.
I understand. I tossed this little cookbook aside for the longest while, assuming it was some New Age sermon on the mount. Certainly, it seemed too tiny with too few recipes to be of much value. When I finally got around to opening it, I was in my typical “do a million things at once” mode that had become the norm for my second shift. After a hectic 12-hour workday, I was scrambling to make dinner, do the dishes, and accomplish a list of other household chores. Sound familiar?
But one day, with one eye on my ironing and one ear on the television, while spooning ice cream from a bowl on the counter between shirts, I started reading. Before long, the forgotten iron had turned itself off and I’d plopped myself into a quiet rocking chair that had sat neglected far too long. I was completely absorbed experiencing each and every delicious word like a child luxuriating in a melting ice cream cone on summer vacation.
By the time I put the book down, it was morning. That may have been the most real breakfast I’ve ever cooked, served, and shared with my husband. It was like cooking and eating for the first time. You might think I was vulnerable to this metamorphosis because I’m a food writer and deal with food all day, every day. But cooking and eating are basic human activities for all of us. Sadly, like many of my friends, I’d grown removed from the joys of cooking. Grocery shopping and cooking had become goal-oriented activities, chores I had to get done. Getting dinner on the table every night became a race against the clock. And, I’d become paralyzed with anxiety at the thought of entertaining, feeling like I would be judged by how perfect a dish looked, if it contained the choicest gourmet ingredients, and how expertly it was executed. Even worse, my focus on food had been influenced by America’s obsession with calories, fear of fat, and dietary diatribes that snatched the last bits of satisfaction from favorite dishes.
How many of us have love-hate-fear relationships with food?
In The Mindful Cook, author Isaac Cronin shares his own story, calling himself a “warrior” when cooking for guests a few years back, dirtying every dish in the house with productions where nothing short of six-course perfection would do. His guests steered clear of him and the high-performance anxiety level permeating his kitchen. He was so busy proving himself that somewhere along the way he had lost the experience and the pleasures of cooking. He took a step back and came to the revelation that cooking itself could be joyful and its own reward. The process could be the real nourishment — for himself and his friends.
I thought back to the most memorable meal I’d ever eaten. It wasn’t picture-perfect food, I remembered. In fact, I couldn’t recall exactly what I ate, but I did remember the wonder and fun of the meal, the setting, and the company. I thought back to the most delicious foods I’d ever eaten and they weren’t elaborate gourmet dishes either, but simple foods eaten flavorfully fresh and in-season and lovingly prepared. The author made sense.
He says he discovered it was easy to feel at home in the kitchen “through appreciation of the rhythms of cooking, the textures of ingredients, and the thousand other pleasures.” It’s within everyone’s reach, he promises, to feel playful, relaxed, and reverent in the kitchen, all at the same time.
Even if you don’t consider yourself a good cook, hate to cook, or are intimidated by the mere idea of it, this book will de-stress your kitchen. This is a quick read. You’ll probably find yourself re-reading many of the chapters over and over, each time discovering something new about yourself in his poignant questions, examples, and advice. You’ll learn even more under his guidance as you cook modest and familiar recipes, as if experiencing them for the first time. And you’ll actually find yourself enjoying meals no matter how they turn out.
Certainly, this book got me back to playing with food and having fun creating recipes for several new cookbooks. I lost myself in the kitchen, again, completely absorbed in what I’m doing. Aside from the professional benefits, it has made coming home to cook dinner something I look forward to every day. It’s okay if dinner isn’t perfect or fancy. Just the act of making and sharing food with someone I love makes the meal pleasurable. I even love to shop for groceries and make the long drive to the farmer’s market to discover the freshest seasonal ingredients grown by local farmers. No longer are the most pristine specimens the ones I reach for — I look for ones that are the freshest and smell good, because I know those will be the ones that will taste the best.
I never thought it would be possible for one little cookbook to give me the gift of food. So, grab an ice cream cone and settle down with this book. They both deserve your full attention.
This article appears in September 8 • 2000.