Stealing the General's Chicken

I could look up a recipe, go to the grocery store, gather the ingredients and cook a new meal every day of my life. That's what I miss most about having an income--not shopping without guilt, or going to the bars, but grocery shopping. Fortunately, I've been able to heat up and enjoy the delicious leftovers I've kept in my freezer the past few months, without spending a dime.

Tonight, though, I marched off to the grocery store in a huff of frustration at the state of my various job applications in pursuit off something else...several days ago, I'd decided to make General Tso's Chicken. I found a recipe that people raved about and followed it with a mathematical precision, as I'd never cooked General Tso's Chicken before, or any Chinese food for that matter. Nor had I ever deep fried anything. I was scared--I feared I would end up at the hospital with burns over most of my body, but, alas, I somehow managed to pull the whole thing off without a hitch. All I have to say is that I sincerely wish that deep frying wasn't so unhealthy, because, not only is fried chicken obviously delicious, but it's delightfully fun to make. It recently dawned on me that cooking is a science, and I've become even more fascinated with it since I've begun to think of it in that manner. Why does the batter fry instantly after it's dropped into the oil? And why does it become hard so quickly? And the sauce, the disgusting, brown sludge that I poured into the pan, what makes it thicken and glaze so beautifully, and so suddenly? I stood over it thinking, after a few minutes, "this is never going to work," and turned around to put some dishes into the sink. When I turned back five seconds later, the sludge had transformed!

Cooking is magic. And what I love most about it is that I'm just getting started. I'm fascinated by the basic elements, and I've barely even scratched the surface. I am reading Garlic and Sapphires by Ruth Reichl, former restaurant reviewer for the NYT, and the meals she describes are like none I could ever dream of. I'm proud of myself for going without a recipe every once in awhile, but I can only dream of creating something restaurant worthy.