This afternoon, I talked to Omar about new year’s resolutions (on the phone, because he’s doing this digital cleanse thing and, other than writing him a letter, it’s the only way we can communicate for the time being, but it’s nice so I don’t really mind). I explained that it’s pointless repeating my typical resolutions – usually to stop biting my nails and to get more exercise – because I’ve resolved to do those things year after year. Despite managing to grow my nails for our wedding in May, they’re currently bitten down to the quick. And I can’t remember the last exercise I did.
A couple of years ago, I resolved to see more live music and (surprise, surprise) it’s one new year’s resolution I have managed to stick to. So, this year, I’m going to get a balance between the two and try to make more time to cook (I was originally planning to try to enjoy cooking but Omar pointed out that forcing myself to enjoy something would go the way of the nail biting and exercise).
I don’t cook very often; I’m lucky enough to be married to a man who enjoys cooking and is naturally very good at it. I tend to tell people that I don’t enjoy it but that’s not really true. I’m just not particularly confident, so things go wrong or it takes an age to make the simplest dish, and I can’t be bothered with faffing about in the kitchen when there are so many other demands on my time. When I remove these factors, for example when I spend a Sunday afternoon baking a cake (I’m good at baking because it requires the precise following of a recipe), I really enjoy it.
I’m going to mark the beginning of a year in which I intend to make more time to cook by trying something new. For Christmas, Chris and I got three different cookery books as gifts (although I don’t cook, I adore reading cookery books). And I have three more days at home before I return to work. So, for each of those three days off, I’m going to take the time to cook a meal from one of those three books. And Chris is going to guess which book it came from.