It's okay to fail sometimes (sometimes being the operative word)

One reason I believe I have a hard time following recipes is because I don't take time concentrating on reading them, than of course following through with the instructions, the part that kind of really matters, which in my mind, means being told to do something a certain way, and therefore, not my own.

So when I decided to go and buy a rabbit from Pike Place Market, overseeing the fact that it wasn't portioned already, I had to than go out and buy a cleaver. A cleaver. I love it and now want to butcher all the meat I buy whole.

Being that I had never cooked rabbit myself, I was thinking that I would just roast the whole thing intact, kind of like a chicken, than portion it off to my dinner guests at the table.

You see though, I found a recipe in David Tanis' beautiful cookbook, A Platter of Figs, a book that leaves me wanting to cook a dinner party for eight every night, which called for the rabbit to be portioned. So of course I went ahead and followed the recipe, mostly.

I will just put it out there now: I am finding it really hard to successfully comply to recipes. I feel  disconnected to the final product, like I'm observing and my hands are moving but I'm not really a part of the creation. Hmmm, we'll see if that can change.

I guess what it is I'm trying to say, is that at some point in the kitchen, we will create something, yours or another, that we can really call a failure. Maybe not a complete failure, since at the point of realizing this failure you're finding all the parts that were actually just okay. The parts that have you believing in yourself again, the parts that have you convinced as you're falling asleep, "maybe it really wasn't that bad, I know I can certainly do a hundred times better, but really, it was fine". Than you wake up every morning for the rest of the week with a sad, burning feeling in the pit of your stomach that reminds you that you really did fail. Like I said, not a complete failure. Your crafted meal was eaten with positive banter and munching, but you, YOU know it's not where your standards lie.

My yoga instructor, of recent times, says a quote after each class, which is considerate after sitting in a hot room for an hour and a half sweating out buckets of the outside world, and the quote that struck me like a brick shit house was something along the lines of, "Those things that are worth doing good, those things of importance to you, can not be perfected by doing only once". Sounds a little like what you might read in the 'self-healing' section at a book store, but it worked for me when I needed it to.

Right there though, is what I usually do the opposite of, that is for sure. I can only remember doing the things that fascinate me in the kitchen once, or maybe twice, because if I can't get it right the first time, I get frustrated than give up.

So right now, right here, I am publicly vouching for myself, I'm swearing upon the cover of Stephanie Alexander's, The Cook's Companion, that I will just give it a go. By giving it a go, I mean that I will cook the way I know how to cook, the way I LOVE to cook. Cooking the way I was inspired to cook. Simple, fresh ingredients and doing it well. REALLY WELL.

I'm going to get my hand amongst the essential ingredients. Back to making beauty with a handful of blueberries and a the zest of a lemon.

I'm going to make cakes. I'm going to make cakes and call my dad and tell him that I wish I could cut him a slice and serve it to him with fresh whipped cream, the way he loves it.

So after much pondering of how to tackle recipes, I will simply be inspired by them, maybe saving the following of instructions for baking only. That's usually a good idea.