The Finishing

About a year ago I set off on the task of working my way through a cookbook. 

It took about the first week to realize that my determined quickness in completing the book would have to be relative considering the slowness of the accumulation of sufficient funds to support such an expensive venture. A.K.A. I couldn’t afford it. The ingredients in the recipes of Eat this Poem were much pricier than anticipated. 

It then took me about three weeks to realize that I do not possess the abundance of time to learn, cook slowly with senses perked, and write about the details I found in each new taste daily or even weekly. I learned, but differently than expected. I cooked, but much faster than desired. I wrote, but much less frequently than promised. 

In a very anticlimactic way, I believe I have come to the end of my journey. It evolved much overtime, as I realized it is harder to write about food than I thought. However sly my efforts, I presume it is obvious I’d much rather write about faith, nature, and routine. Food is a part of all those subjects no doubt; however, it is a mere small ingredient in the fuller picture and therefore cannot consume my full attention.

Though part of me is reluctant to decide that I must end something I have yet to finish, I think about the goals that I’ve had over my life that seemed to require footsteps towards a direction different from that which God was taking me. Perhaps the unmet goals are achievements in themselves, as they actualize my imperfect humanity, signal someone else’s hand at work, and propel me forward in humble vigor of “Well then, what’s next?”

I cooked my way through 39 of the 75 recipes in the cookbook Eat this Poem by Nicole Gulotta. Today I confidently, yet not without remorse, announce that I failed my goal of completion. Despite lingering sadness, I am glad that I have the courage to fail. And I look forward to one day returning to this cookbook, discovering new tastes and feasting on the old. I’ll finish with one last recipe, Gulotta’s hot chocolate recipe, on this rainy October Saturday to mark the ending of a chapter and the beginning of a new one.

Cheers to failures that tell stories, both in and out of the kitchen.

Best,

Mia