KITCHEN MINDFULNESS: HOW TO CHOP AN ONION

When we first bought this house, I was still the visual merchandiser at a garden center in Houston. One of my biggest jobs was to get the place all decked out for the holidays, which included everything from getting all the holiday merchandise priced and displayed, to prettying up the gift shop, arranging poinsettias and forced bulbs, making space for our tree lot, decorating our big tree, hanging a zillion twinkle lights, and preparing for our annual open house. It was a mad frenzy from mid-august through Thanksgiving, which is when the trees were delivered. Then, suddenly, I had nothing at all to do, for no new merchandise would be coming in until after our January buying trip. That's why I usually took most of December off.

The first December after we bought this place, it suddenly occurred to me that I could spend that time at the Wimberley house, where we planned to have our family celebration that year, instead of at the Houston townhouse. It was such an amazing time for me: time to explore; time to make the house feel more like a home; one-on-one time with my daughter, who was attending college nearby; time to bake, wrap, and decorate; time to think and muddle and plan; even time to watch some sappy Christmas movies! One day as I sat eating my lunch, I was flipping channels looking for a movie, but landed instead on a cooking show called Everyday Italian. I'd never watched cooking shows before, but there was Giada, turning out these wonderful-looking dishes using real food and fresh herbs, and making it all look so very simple! It was by watching her that I finally learned how to chop onions without crying, and smash a clove of garlic. It was a real turning point for me. Up until that point, I was using mostly frozen, pre-chopped onions and peppers, and got my chopped garlic from a jar. I was missing out on the zen-like pleasure you can get from the sound, smell and feel of chopping your ingredients, and the blissful aroma you only get from sizzling absolutely fresh ingredients in a bit of good olive oil. If you have not yet discovered this for yourself, well, I have a little prezzy for you!

Why-oh-why can't I write in a straight line?
(click to enlarge)

Remember that sweet little documentary I mentioned the other day, called How to Cook Your Life -- the one with the zen-priest-chef from California? Have you watched it yet? He talks a lot about "mindfulness" in the kitchen, about being there. He says "When you chop the carrots, chop the carrots." Look at the well-worn utensils and kettles that surround you. Be mindful of them. Relate to them. And, oh yeah, use a good knife! I am quite mindful of my knives now, and have developed a very close relationship to these Santoku fellows. The one I use most, the lavender one, probably cost the least. I love it because it is so lightweight, but has held its sharp edge for a long time without me having to sharpen it.

Do some mindful chopping this week, won't you please? For me? I promise, once you get the hang of it, it's actually quite fun. I almost never cry anymore.