From Scratch: Cooking Every Night - A Threefold Plan To A Happier Mind.

Have you ever watched the episode of Fraiser where Niles, played to pompy perfection by the amazing David Hyde-Pierce guffs up trying to ask the wholesome and warm Daphne, played by lovely Jane Leeves, on a date? He fails miserably and wallows in misery until she shows up, chides him for not being ready for 'Da-Phylis' (the aforementioned made up on a whim name of the date he stutters over when trying hopelessly to just ask her out) and sets about whipping up a meal? They chop together to the timeless 30s classic 'Heart And Soul' penned by Hoagy Carmichael in a duet that is accomplished as it is adorable? No?

Well, cooking for me is like that. Without Niles, sadly.

However, Daphne's passion for home cooking and her obvious pleasure in making it from scratch is my bag, baby; as satisfying as it is time-consuming - a quality folk don't usually look for in their pastimes, but one for me, that is a whole winner. (Without the chicken dinner, I'm vegan) It is, at once, necessary and leisurely, skilled as it is basic, and demanding as it is fulfilling. These things are perfect for my brain, which is, as I once said to my therapist, at all times home to an angry gym coach, red in the face and constantly blowing a whistle, shouting "YOU SHOULD HAVE ACHIEVED *INSERT HERE* BY NOW! YOU'RE SO DUMB, YOU NEVER HAD IT, YOU'LL NEVER BE IT, AND LOOK, YOU'VE DONE SWEET FA ALL DAY - DROP AND GIVE ME 20!"

As you can imagine, this charming commentary of self-criticism and doubt makes even the simplest of tasks hard, as loud and disruptive as it is. Some people cook to feed their family, impress a date, as a career, for love, for a promotion, to welcome an in-law, the list is endless - I do it to stuff a gym coaches mouth with their own undies for about two hours an evening, every evening. That's...the weirdest sentence I've ever created, but I stand by it. It's the truth. Neurodivergent brains like mine are prey to circular destructive thoughts, that, if unchecked turn into Apocalyptic Thoughts, and can lead to depressive episodes where bed and sleep are the only viable refuge. So, something needed to change, I needed a distraction, especially in the evenings, when the thoughts, angry and intrusive, rush in, fast. Enter: the kitchen.

The First Fold - Achievement Unlocked

See, the thing is - cooking from scratch is a win. Kinda like getting up and have a shower - it must be done, we do it every day, this eating thing, without much thought. But, aha, apply some and its like putting on glasses if you're short-sighted, this whole world opens up to you. Start small though, and bag the simplest and easiest win you can make - a slam-dunk if you will: making and eating some food. Even if its beans on toast, a salad, a simple pasta with bottled pasta sauce. It's an achievement, by dent of the skils it requires, the tasks to complete, the focus it requires - never mind at the fact that at the end, it's literally own trophy: the taste of your own applicaiton of thought and ability, and it's cost you nothing! I'd like Maccy D's to try and sell that, psch.

As time passes, and you get better at it, more streamlined in thoughts, you suddenly realise, look at that - you conquered the ingredients, mastered the cooking oil, tamed the sauce, and best of all - you get to eat your opponent. (Okay, that one was wilfully weird, but just go with it.) But like, wow! You took things from a fridge, cut, diced, boiled, coated, stirred, heated, crisped and poured stuff that was in one form, and made it into another! Go you! *

*not sarcastic, honest.

Okay, so maybe that's just a long-winded and uneceesary dressing up of just, like, cooking, but I'm getting to the good bit.

Fold Two: A Little Perspective

It's impossible to worry about stuff that doesn't matter when you're holding a sharp knife.

Or watching a pot closely to see if the potato gnocchi is rising (I disagree, a watched pot ALWAYS boils, and it has become a hobby of mine) Or stirring a white sauce to make sure it doesn't stick: cooking is basically a very long list of tasks that need your full attention for an hour or so - one that you can fill the gaps with Earth, Wind and Fire, a glass of wine or your fave soft drink (San Pelly Arinciata, ice and any gin is the quickest cocktail ever, thank me later) Point is: I distract the thoughts away, hold them at bay and weaken them little by little by taking away their power and influence.

Who's thinking about being 32 and not where they want to be in their career when you're slicing a tomato with a knife that's sharper than a reality star's tongue on the sofa with Andy Cohen? Not me, and I live for it.

Fold Three: The Final Form: Hungry For Challenge (Show Off Edition)

Over time though, it became less of the hack and more of the hobby - in my household, there is veganism, and no bread, potatoes or anything with wheat for an intolerance, as well as diabetes, all under one roof. So, options are slim. There's only so many times you can make a simple ratatouille or stir fry or pasta every night (we watch those waistbands too, so even a wheat free pasta dish is rarer than a Tory hugging a tramp) and one has to be creative.

Enter TikTok. Yes, I know, I'm in my thirties, I have no right to be there - but oh my word the food revolution that goes on there! Rice paper dumplings, miso aubergine halves, lentil tofu! At times it felt like I was playing an advance level of Sims - standing in the kitchen, tipping out the lentil mixture that had, thank the lord it had, in fact solidified in the fridge overnight: I could practically feel that skill bar filling up like absinthe filtering through an ice cube on a Friday night. Look it up. It's real, and tastes amazing, though only if you like your drink STRONG. Like 'seeing stuff is overrated' strong. But truly, knowing you had challenged yourself, gone for something new and literally had the proof in the pudding, well it's both the best thing in the world and makes the weekly shop very involved very suddenly. I mean come on. Who doesn't sell Panko crumbs in this day and age?

Every time I aced a new recipe, served it up, watched the people I love and appreciate take their first bite, and savour it, I became an addict. Which brings us to the third benefit: The Challenge. By now, after making dinners from scratch since 2018, I have a pretty well-worn weekly meal rota - even with the TikTok inspo, and I'm one of these Creative Types, so of course it was going to happen - I wanted applause, I wanted big game changing food, old stuff made new, alternatives to the meat alternatives, I'm talking the whole shebang...

What came out was Butter bean mash flavoured with miso, smashed avo and mustard with tray bake veg and dip, but give me a break, for someone who ABHORS and cannot follow a recipe even if I wanted to (Neurodivergent, reporting for duty) its tough to find the new flavour, texture or ingredients that fulfil all the dietary needs I elect to tend to every evening. So I started small, so sue me.

Aaaand quickly found that pushing too hard, especially on a bad day, can set you back. Trying something and it not working...its a special kind of heartbreak. I like to think around others I bring a quality of happiness, try to make others laugh, be jovial, but whoah, I wouldn't pay to be around me when one of my dinners goes wrong. The flowers around our house wilter. Birds faceplant into our windows. Groups of teenagers avoid our area.

Look, I'm definitely not saying I'm aspiring to cheffery - I would never presume to be that up myself, but cooking almost every night a year does require some mixing it up, putting that new found cooking integrity out there, and playing a very dangerous game of ruining ingredients and having to have to toast for dinner. Of course it comes with pitfalls, but the rewards I find, are intoxicating. My Mushaka, for example: my own creation of a red sauce with smoked paprika, garlic salt, hot chilli powder and a tiny bit of mild curry powder and a ton of basil, with chopped peppers, aubergine, courgette, and very finely cubed mushroom for mince, topped with a white sauce and vegan cheese, is a true winner at home. So too are my patented chickpea meatballs: blended with yeast flakes, rice flower, ciabatta, paprika, pepper and salt into a crumb, then rolled and ultimately fried in a pan and served with a rich red sauce, is another. Now, the Christmas Dinners are certainly on me. I can't be stopped. I have to be shielded from the herb and spices isle.

But at the end of the long, hard, ever-darkening winter day, those dishes are mine: made with love, earned with mental willpower and an actual physical representation of my determination and success in balancing the peaks and troughs of mental health and neurodiversity with health, vigour and flavour. And I wash up afterwards. The best. cook. ever. I'd like to see Gordon Ramsey do that. Maybe he should try my no meat-balls. JK. I'm never giving anybody the recipe ever. Mainly because I've never written a recipe down.

Never mind. Hasn't stopped me so far:

So go one, get! Cook! I can't promise it will fix your life, but eating a forkful of your ability to focus, achieve and provide will make your day. Especially if you're neurospicy, as the kids say, charmingly, like me. Bonus points if you've got 'Heart And Soul' playing in the background. Take it away, you adorable lovebirds!

All love, 'til next time,

J x