It is the evening, the lights are low, a familiar show is on repeat and a stack of cookbooks sits beside me, spines cracked wide open. I hold one open on my lap, balancing a notebook, writing down the next recipe I will be trying in my kitchen.
I skim through the recipe, noting what I will have to swap, skip or fix in the recipe. I'm so tempted to try it word for word, tsp for tsp, but I know it needs a pinch of this and a lower cooking temperature for that. And I have suffered through one too many followed to the tee recipes to no longer trust my instinct.
I think of the proteins and how I will cook them for my meat loving man and the substitute I will make for myself and my hippie no meat likey tastebuds, without using every pan in my house.
Oh, and I've got two little ones with different allergies and preferences all their own to consider.
I think of holidays coming up, themes of the week for homeschool, seasonal foods, my pantry's contents and what is on sale this week.
All of these factors form the answer to the question:
"What's for dinner?"
In the kitchen, I feel well suited to the conundrums put to me. I lean into my hard earned instinct; measuring with pinches and glugs to achieve the results that best suit my loved ones.
I have found a special power in my kitchen, and learning how to harness it, is a skill I am ever trying to master.
So, as my favourite teacher says:
"Take chances, make mistakes, get messy".