slowly, steadily...

"Even the evanescent brushing of our cuffs is the fateful mark of a previous existence."

Cooking has a strangely cathartic effect. The process of gathering various ingredients and combining them to form a more perfect union of flavors has a bewildering appeal - especially for me. I find the culinary process intriguing - for it is neither a requisite of bodily sustenance, nor is it especially efficient or practically rewarding (considering the amount of time spent in preparation).

But simultaneously, it is common knowledge that cooked, garnished, lathered, spiced, fried, broiled, attended food definitely tastes better. And what is tasteful we return to out of enjoyment - again, this is common knowledge. However, it is worth inquiring: What drives people to cook in the first place? What causes us to return again and again to the kitchen and try our hands at creating wholesome meals from ingredients which, independently, carry scarcely any appeal?

The art of cooking is as peculiar as it is wondrous; ironically, the human tongue, delicate as it may be, samples and apprises even the most bizarre substances. If a particular ingredient doesn't bode well on it's own, we labor endlessly to find its perfect match - its fitting niche. Is it merely a characteristic of humans to find patterns in regard to each individual sense? Or perhaps cooking appeals to the basic human passion for creation?

"Cooking ruins my appetite," she said.

The outcome isn't the appeal. The taste isn't everything. Is there something more?