Over winter break, as so many folks begin to do in December, I started to think about my goals for the coming year. I generally feel opposed to setting New Year’s resolutions, but at the end of the all-too-terrible 2016, I thought making a few might set a nice, optimistic tone to 2017. I sat down with a pen and paper feeling a little stumped. Then my stomach grumbled.
My relationship with food has always been complicated. I battle stomach aches often and on top of that, my blood sugar levels fluctuate between too high and too low. And of course, as for so many people, body image remains an uphill battle and often one that feels private and public at the same time.
UNC’s dining halls proved challenging when I had a meal plan. I often felt like I made the wrong choices when I swiped in. Even more often, I felt like there were not enough options for those who have to watch their blood sugar (and believe me, there are just as many of us as there are those with gluten intolerances). When I decided to move off campus last fall, my parents worried I would not eat well or even enough to sustain my health. Like I said, complicated.
After a semester of often hurriedly cooking after a long day in classes, I found myself needing divine inspiration for a better semester. At home in Concord, my family’s day-to-day activities involve coming together and eating. The Food Network channel is our biblical text and sitting down to eat together is our church service. I wanted that spirit to go with me when I came back to school for the spring.
So I made a plan. In the fall, some of my best friends and I came together each week for a potluck-style meal. We set a weekly day to continue that tradition this semester. I decided I want to share my cooking with as many friends as possible.
I brought back to campus an armful of cookbooks to help me out (everything from Saint Ina Garten’s earliest cookbooks to “Mastering the Art of French Cooking”).
I thought critically about what groceries I needed each week to help me eat well and fulfillingly.
I told myself experimenting is good and if I burn a few onions while sauteing, it’s not the end of the world.
Cooking for yourself isn’t easy. Franklin Street and the nearby restaurants prove to be my biggest temptation (here’s looking at you, Buns and Lime & Basil). But there’s a simple joy and satisfaction when you cook a meal that turns out well — and an even bigger warm fuzzy feeling when you get to share it with the family you’ve created in Chapel Hill.
