I’ve almost forgotten the joy of eating and cooking. The last six months had been difficult. I was learning the in and out of interior design. I was facing a soon-to-be-lost battle of something that will not be mentioned here. I was eating unhealthily and snacking late into ungodly mornings while working on my assignments. On average, I only had 4 hours of sleep daily during the week for the last two months. Some of us had shed tears of frustration (amongst many other mixed emotions) at least once during the semester. Everything and everyone around us were neglected. I couldn’t go out with friends, save once for a birthday dinner, not because I don’t want to but because I couldn’t. It was just one assignment after another. When you think you are done with a design, you are not. There’s always this little bit of detail you’ve left out. And it was only the first semester. I’m sure we will all look back at it one day knowing the bittersweet taste of victory.

You know, it is true what they say about art as therapy. I believe it is the same with cooking and baking. There’s so much joy to be found in creating, preparing, cooking and eating food. Even the simplest of meal.The concept, art, technique and patience involved.The visual and non-visual aspects including the textures. The whiff and the taste.

When I was managing a food website few years ago, I wrote a short bio about myself. In it, I mentioned the monologue I had on ways to eat a bowl of rice porridge. It is a true story. Once, as a teenager and at home alone from school, I heated up the porridge my mother had make earlier. As it can get pretty lonely eating all by yourself, I started finding the best ways to scoop up the coolest portion of porridge in the bowl onto my spoon (which can be scorching hot but is best eaten when it’s warm). That was the beginning of my interest in food. Depending on who you talk to, I was a skinny child with little interest in food. It took me hours to be fed. Growing up in a family and culture known to indulge in food, I was a disgrace at eat-all-you-can buffet. Hot and spicy food was the bane of my existence late until adolescent. Granted, my digestive system has always been wonky and unforgiving. There are so many beautiful stories of my childhood involving food that I can write about.

So, about cooking. Having a few weeks at home now not working on plans or elevations, I’m looking at cookbooks, making up dishes and re-making my favourite food. I don’t think I will be able to return to many years ago when food was a central theme in my life. However, I think there is a newfound joy in cooking and baking again, however shortlived it may be.

Excuse me while I go and stir my pot of beef vindaloo.