I'm cooking now. In fact, I have to be real quick here because of the carrots.
It is - cooking, I mean - a bit like watching the paint dry. It takes time, as you all know. And patience. Maybe cooking is only about patience.
It requires all of your senses. You must listen to the sound of the sizzle, you must smell - as an illiterate maid who worked at my mother's a long time ago used to do, as she could tell when the rice was done by its smell only. And you must taste, of course. All in all, it's very educational.
There is a plan guiding what you are doing (your recipe, that is), yet there is this longing - and this is the word, longing - for what will come out in the end, and this ever-present desire, or I should say urge, to be accepted and loved by what you did. And this is uncontrollable, it is one of those "Id" things. I don't know how it works for you, Patricia, but I admire and respect very much anyone who undertakes the task of cooking so seriously. To publish what you cook is to offer your face for a slap, without fear. And this is extraordinary.
Além de tudo, é uma baita terapia. Por os ingredientes na ordem certa na panela, adicionar os temperos também na ordem certa e observar o ponto de cozimento é, na verdade, tentar por um pouco de ordem no mundo. Por sua vida em ordem, em pequena escala. Quase uma sessão no analista, eu diria. Quem cozinha, ainda que em espasmos e de maneira amadora como eu, sabe o que estou falando.
Vocês deveriam todos tentar.