Writing

Thai coconut milk&red curry soup. 

If I’m not sad enough, it never taste as delicious. This has been a proven scientific fact. The amount of sadness equates to the amount of love I need to put into my soup, that’s called balance my friend. This recipe came from a Pinterest page about a year or so ago. I was working long hours at the hospital and not tending to myself, working to live and living to work. The mundane routine of the psychotic in a plain world. My world had nothing. Sadness and desperation to make sure I was able to take care of the roof over my head. The dailies were concrete and I managed to stay above water. I managed to sow and grow from the roots I had planted in this not so nourishing soil. I learned that self love came in many forms. Self love came to me in the form of a kitchen, where I learned how to nourish myself the right way. I learned how to tend to myself, physically and emotionally. I learned how to tend to myself properly. I was careful in the way I cleaned vegetables and chicken. Tenderness playing a key role in being mindful of the cleansing. No need to rush. Be thorough and be gentle.  Be gentle with the process of cleansing, soak in warm water to help with defrosting parts that want to remain solid. I paid attention to the flavors against my tongue. I became a huge fan of garlic and it’s ability to transform ordinary dishes into something mouthwatering. I learned that love is created in the kitchen and there’s nothing better than making sure you take care of love. This recipe came out perfect the first time because I am a chef, in my own mind, and it’s here in the kitchen that we learn how to create.It was coconut milk and red curry perfection. I mean, I even accidentally added in coconut cream and that mixture of sweet and spicy became everything to my taste buds. I learned that sometimes when you think you messed up, you find out new ways to improve yourself and your dish. The discovery in the kitchen helped better me when I lost myself on days where gray skies were never ending. Some days I just couldn’t manage the sadness. I would cry and cry and cry some more, never being able to pinpoint where all the confusion comes from. I credited my hormones most of the time but making this soup makes me remember to center myself and put myself first. There are so many ways we continuously forget about ourselves through work, relationships and school. The back burner becomes a comfort zone and what’s comfortable is rarely ever changed. What grows there anyways aside of fear and contentment? If it works, why fix it? That’s always the logic, but time is a teacher and later the body realizes everything ain’t meant to be carried. So the soup remains as a reminder for me, to take care of myself even on days when I would rather not. When I had nothing to push me forward, I learned that in the kitchen we can create magic and find something worth savoring… even if it’s just yourself.

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