Recipes-not-recipes #20

Just another plate of chicken and rice

A week of not cooking is never a relief to me. My mind runs wild most days, hours, seconds, spilling over with what-if, is-this-good-enough, what-do-they-think-of-me moments. Any frustrations or insecurities that habitually build up are often released in the kitchen; so when I’m taken away from that, I can feel out of sorts. It’s the bittersweetness of being in a new city – the joy of discovering new restaurants or eating the best Sichuan food of your life in a park, in the sun, with your friend, emails off. The flip side of that is you’re always on the move, trying to pack everything in for fear of missing out. I stayed somewhere with a kitchen but I barely even used the kettle. I knew that my first meal back had to be slow. Cooking chicken affords that time to rest and reset. I know it’s a good meal when I’m in the midst of cooking and thinking about doing it again but for friends – when I can picture their faces around a table, reaching towards the middle to spoon more sauce or grabbing more slaw or asking if there’s anymore dressing. I’d eaten something similar from Berber & Q a week earlier – the combination of dates, onions and olives too irresistible not to try again.