2000 Mistakes
Remember those wonderful Bob Ross shows we used to watch on PBS? When Bob decided that the scene needed some “happy little trees” in the background, he seemingly waved the brush over the canvas with a scribble motion and the trees came to life. It was always a joy to watch.
I never aspired to paint, sparing myself from wondering if I could reach such a pinnacle. But there were things in my life that I did wish to achieve such proficiency. Playing guitar was one of those things, but the time commitment that takes is significant. The last time I had that kind of time was in 1986. I am ok with this. In fact, I feel I am not done with that side of my creativity.
In 1999, in Junction City, Kansas I experienced my first most amazing meal ever. As I sat there with five of my friends, I never imagined that I could reach any kind of culinary achievement. Three years later, on a completely different planet, I set out to make my first spinach artichoke dip. This Saturday-kitchen-devouring mission was all-consuming. It also had the cleanup effort requirement of an oil tanker spill.
2,000 mistakes and misfires brought about 50,000 wins and knowledge that others have tried to pay for yet never received. I have always been the make-something-out-of-nothing guy, and learning to cook was all that for me.
I’ve had very good inspiration. Yes, in popular culinary media, there are ways to pick up this or that. My true inspiration came from people who I spent important times in my life with. My Dad always had this incredible drive to not follow any known paths, letting his curiosity, and need for a specific taste right then and there lead the way. Late one Saturday night, when the Family Center had the excellent idea to market cast iron frying pans, with a dozen eggs and a pound of bacon, shrink-wrapped together. It was too tempting. That led to a late-night culinary expedition that started with those ingredients and became so much; the food, the conversation, the creativity, and old stories.
Another inspiration comes from my friend Nick. He was raised in restaurants. It is in his DNA. The unique thing about Nick is, he has the same, make something from nothing mentality. We shared a Gulf War deployment over 30 years ago. With limited resources, obtained through others by questionable means, I watched his limitless creativity in full force. Just like me, just like my father, Nick has let his desire to see what the possibilities can be, fire his culinary drive.
In the 25 years of expanding my culinary ambitions, I have learned something amazing. The more I do this the easier it gets. The 22-year-old spinach artichoke dip now can be made anywhere, anytime, and you could have a conversation with me as I make it and barely notice that I am working on something this significant. I could make it, in my kitchen, I could make it with a chicken, I could make it here or there, I could make it anywhere.
That is nothing compared to what happens when time and complexity demands are placed on me. Just like working out regularly, I am building strength and confidence that I can do more than I ever knew. Complex, choreographed, large-group cooking adventures are now possible and enjoyable. There is a pleasant side effect to this escalation of complex cooking ability. Making something on those nights when we have no idea what to make or where to start. Now, there are always possibilities. Out of all of the benefits, it is interesting to me that the most basic benefit is the greatest one of all.