Perfect Every Time

I am somewhat of a perfectionist.
I used to think that there was no way I was a perfectionist because I would become so frustrated if I couldn't make something turn out the way I wanted it that I'd give up. I didn't realize that a perfectionist is not only someone who will do something again and again, but someone who simply isn't satisfied unless it's PERFECT.

That's me.
I find it difficult to feel satisfaction for something I've made or worked on.
This translates in the kitchen as well.
I love cooking for myself and my own cravings, but nothing brings as much pleasure as cooking for other people. I am a persistent cook, I want to know if you've liked it. Is it the best thing you've tasted all day? all week? all year? Are you experiencing a flavor combination you've never encountered? Is this new to you? Surprising? I hate when I ask, "What do you think?" and they simply reply "Good." Good just isn't enough. Good isn't satisfying.

Three years ago when my parents came to visit for my graduation, when I received my B.A., I made a tofu chocolate mousse. This year, as I prepare for another graduation, my mother inquired about the mousse. Would I be making again this time? Definitely. My mother, a woman who doesn't know the first thing about vegetarianism for veganism, loved the mousse. She thought she hated tofu, but had simply never experienced it in this way.
That was a small victory for me.

I fail all the time in the kitchen. I make mistakes. I feel hurried. I try and cut corners. I'm out of an ingredient and try to substitute, but miss the mark. There was the failure of a tofu loaf I made when I first went vegan. Made of tofu, breadcrumbs, veggies and spices, the top crisped up nicely, but when I pulled it out of the oven it and put it on a plate it turned into crumbly bits. The tofu pumpkin pie that turned into a gooey mess and couldn't be corrected.

Each time I learned something new, and either I ate the thing anyway, or accepted it's unpalatability. I sift through the pages of cooking magazines and my imagination runs wild. I think about the possibilities of taking a "rubbed pork loin" reciped and making it vegetarian "rubbed eggplant steak?" A kitchen is a laboratory, an artists studio, a Frankenstein's dream. The dish may not rise to life the first, second, tenth time. But eventually, through all that failure, comes creation. Until it seems that anything is culinarily possible. And that's what keeps me cooking, willing to see it through the disasters. Yes.