The pot that tastes like the week

Some people cook for guests on Fridays. During the week you cook for the hunger left when your head is already done. Onions, some vegetables, whatever is there. Water. Salt. Time you don’t have — and still leave on the hob.

It doesn’t have to look good. It has to hold. The first plate at the counter, the second later, while a series plays that you are not really watching. The next day the pot is better. Not because you know a secret. Because it had rest.

Eating without an audience

Cooking videos pretend every evening is a small production. In most kitchens it isn’t. It clatters, it spatters, it catches slightly. Something still changes when you don’t only open what is fastest. Not morally. Just noticeably.

If you eat alone you don’t need applause. A decent pot is enough. And maybe a message to someone: come by later, there’s some left. That isn’t an event. It’s an invitation without pressure.