A good friend of mine, The Mindy Project writer Chris Schleicher, prides himself on being forever young. He thinks cooking is for old people and that by doing it he will prematurely age himself. And he can’t take ANY risks. Starting to cook may end my friendship with Chris, but you know what they say: The more books you write, the fewer friends you need. Heh-heh. Anyhow, I think Chris might be wrong.
You are not a traitor to your generation if you learn to cook. In this chapter, we will show you how to make at home all the things you have become accustomed to buying or having delivered straight to your door in your modern life. Sorry, Chris. I am cooking and keeping my youth forever. The cream I use before bed every night insists that I’m going to look ten by tomorrow morning.
Of course, I get his point of view, and at one time I even agreed with him. How could I not have? We can have everything we’ve ever desired, and more, delivered right to our front doors. It is really a time for the hermit to shine. We’re all basically a bunch of old Howard Hughses, ordering ice cream directly to our bedrooms. You can Postmates, you can Seamless, you can Eat24; you can even have a full romantic meal (plus the date) delivered to your home. “Just because you can do something doesn’t mean you should” is a thing someone once said. “Taking the easy way out is not always the best thing” is another thing I heard. This is a lesson we millennials have to learn, in all aspects of our life. It is a lesson I struggle with every day. Instant gratification isn’t fast enough for me. I don’t even want to have sex. I just want to have already had the most amazing orgasm of my life without even knowing it happened. I also basically don’t want to do anything. I just want to be really rich and happy and fulfilled without working through any of my shit or trying at all. This has not yet worked for me, so I’m trying to change.
Perhaps if we make our own pizza at home, we’ll stop taking the easy way out in other parts of our life as well. We’ll start in the kitchen and work our way out. We’ll stop using our phones. We’ll become connected people again. We’ll leave our houses to get those massages we REALLY need. Or maybe we can’t change, and we’re all just destined to sit alone in a room with our phones forever. This would be fine. I love my phone more than my family, more than myself, more than anything or anyone. I miss my phone. I have to go. I haven’t kissed my phone yet today. I’m worried it doesn’t know how much I love it.
I’ll leave you with this: Think of all the Instagram and Snapchat material you will get from cooking. Think of the likes! Think of the validation! Isn’t that worth cooking for? Does a beautifully filtered selfie with a homemade gingerbread latte posted to the internet with a winning caption sound like it comes from some old fart? Not to me, it doesn’t. It sounds like it comes from a young, cool hottie like yourself.
Honestly, at this point I feel like a gluttonous monster when I take out instead of cooking in. I look forward to coming home and making dinner. It makes me feel like a person—but still a cool person.—MPB