welta_ian 2015_0015

Toast with garlic and olive oil. Mashed potatoes and spinach tasting of childhood.Locally grown rucola and green onions and cilantro and red radishes and lettuce leaves smelling  of spring. Humus and lentil soup and tahini. The warm smell of vegetable soup simmering on the stove. Luxurious cakes made of fair trade cocoa and bananas and nuts. Avocado sandwiches.  All the different types of mushrooms with their subtle and complex tastes. Miso and cumin and nutritional yeast and pink Himalayan salt and black salt and red paprika.
I love food. I love its smells and colors and tastes and textures. A good meal brightens up a bland day for me. It comforts my worries. I love the creativity of preparing the food, the communal feeling of sharing it with friends. The small rituals around it. Eating it from beautiful dishes. A glass of wine with your dinner.
I used to hate cooking, to be in consequence really bad at it. To consider cooking part of the infinite, repetitive and invisible work of women (even if I would do it for myself and for people who never took it for granted). I especially dreaded the sight and smell of raw meat and I would have never ever touch it or cook it, although I would eat it prepared by others. Still, I would eat the meat that bore almost no resemblance to the physicality of the living breathing animal that used to be. Shivering in disgust at the sight of bones or cartilage. My guilt unrecognized and transformed in a dread towards the organic. I would eat my foods extremely processed abusing my body to hide my empathy from myself .
Becoming vegetarian and then later vegan meant for me to finally access a free and exuberant pleasure for food. Meant never refusing myself anything. Allowing my body to feel energized and healthy. Allowing myself the joy and wonder at the infinite variety of tastes when you cook your food from scratch, when you are open to see cooking as an everyday, useful, modest and friendly form of art. Mixing tastes like you would  mix colors for a painting. A painting about a very small hope, about an almost impossible to envision- but still so important to envision- possibility for a better world for all beings.


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