At the end of last semester, I hurried to pack my clothes, clean out perishables in the fridge, and rushed into my dad’s Lincoln while leaving 40 meals left on my account. The other 60 meals went towards the constant cycle of ordering between Chick-fil-a, Panera, or Wingstop.
The 100 meal block I had confidently bought at the beginning of the semester had become an overwhelming responsibility. I considered saving the meal swipes for the “just in case” stressful moments of the semester. But those moments were never low enough to steer away from home-cooked meals. I felt wasteful to not take advantage of the Cherry Pantry’s meal donations and defeated that the meal plan did not roll over into the next semester.
Although my father’s eyebrows creased in stress when I shared my struggle to eat campus food, he eventually understood. Despite the wide selection of chicken and potatoes cooked and fried in different ways, nothing could beat the need for home cooked meals. To make sure this mistake would never happen again, we agreed I would not have a meal plan for the spring semester.
My cooking skills when I entered college were nowhere near Betty Crocker. My friends in my freshman year taught me to wash my rice and to stop seasoning when the ancestors told me to. I drew closer to my grandmother in the kitchen and became an expert at cooking ground beef. My family and I knew the responsibility of feeding myself three times a day was going to be…an adjustment.
I relied on processed snacks and easy meals while only focused on cooking proteins. I found a liking towards specific foods and drinks at restaurants but didn’t have the budget to continuously buy them.
Pillsbury cinnamon rolls served as an easy breakfast and sweet treat. Until one night my roommate said to me “I can’t really taste the pumpkin”, after eating a store-bought pumpkin cinnamon roll.
Silly tastebuds, right?
The paragraph listed the following ingredients including flour, (ingredients I can’t pronounce), water, sugar, palm and soybean oil, (more ingredients I can’t pronounce), cinnamon, artificial flavor, color additives, yellows 5 & 6, (more ingredients that sound like conjuring a spell), red 40, and blue 1.
Why call it pumpkin, if it doesn’t contain pumpkin, and doesn’t taste like pumpkin?
Since eating the pumpkin placebo, I have shifted to creating my favorite foods and treats by scratch.
And my wallet thanked me for it.
I realized ingredients lasted longer than one serving from a café or a purchase from the local grocery store. I feel reassured to know what ingredients go into my food and if it’s not suitable to sit on a shelf for months…then so be it.
My cooking journey continues to impress me every day. I gain confidence in the kitchen while gaining the skills to make the foods that I enjoy. Nothing feels more empowering than accomplishing something you had no clue you were capable of.
Like making homemade flour tortillas because you accidentally grabbed a bad batch at the store, baking a batch of chocolate chipless cookies, or recreating your aunt’s cream of mushroom chicken.
I can explore my creativity, strengthen my patience, and challenge my capabilities. I have recreated copycat recipes such as Cava’s pita chips, Starbuck’s pumpkin cream cheese muffins, sesame chicken, and more.
Creating meals and treats from scratch creates more dishes, and feels like my measuring cups never return to the cupboards. Yet the experience of learning, creating, and mastering skills and recipes is rewarding.