Art Talk
An Artist Decides to Cook
By Anne Seltzer
I had a big day today. I decided a week ago that I would make a Mexican Casserole, and today I did it.
It isn’t that I have never been a good cook. I was a good cook about 25 years ago, when I gleaned recipes from the independent restaurants all my friends and I worked in up in Santa Cruz: Seychelles, where Cindy bought my drawings of the restaurant’s kitchen; the Bagelry, where Holly slipped me hummus recipes on the back of receipts; the Omei, where I was a hostess, waitress, bar-girl, bookkeeper, and the head cook’s girlfriend (though not necessarily in that order). Although The Blue Willow was short-lived, the recipe for blue corn cottage cheese pancakes accompanied me on many a camping trip into Anza Borrego. And if you haven’t had hot blue corn pancakes in the frosty morning of a winter desert flat, you have not lived.
And it isn’t like I became an artist instead of a good cook. Jan’s art doesn’t suffer for the delicious soups she serves me. Gretchen bakes her homemade rosemary bread alongside her hours in the studio. Christine makes even an afternoon snack an inspiring repast, with a mere handful of fast and healthy items from T Joe’s. In fact, for most artists I know, food is merely another medium for their creative overflow.
Tired of eating out, reheating leftovers, and begging from neighbors Berta and Fred, I needed to take action. When Katie told me last week that she was fixing a vegetable casserole for a potluck, I was inspired to return to the Art of Cooking.
I now have to confess for this story’s sake, that I really haven’t used my oven in about 5 …or maybe10... years. When I must cook, I mostly steam veggies and rice or make soups and salads, using my toaster oven for baking or toasting smaller portions. So not only have I not used the oven for all this time -- but I haven’t even opened it. I realized that I could be hosting a family of sorts in that closed compartment. Armed with mere determination and meek curiosity, I was relieved to find that no mouse condos or spider-web freeways had invaded the clean quiet gray of the inner oven.
I am also afraid of the gas oven. I did have an “incident” in those wild cooking days in Santa Cruz, and I quickly learned that I hate the smell of burned eyebrows, not to mention the look of crispy-curled hair-ends on my arms. It is with much distance that I hold any match to a stovetop burner that has gone out, and I am frankly not about to attempt relighting a stove that has been quiet for ten years. So I merely borrowed Berta’s for the day.
I shopped for ingredients, thinking to myself that the Modern Woman uses canned foods, and my old habit of cooking everything from scratch was archaic. Caution-to-the-wind, I bought cans of organic black beans, corn, and diced tomatoes. I bought fresh veggies, salsa, and corn tortillas. I used: 3 bowls, 5 knives, 4-6 spoons, 2 cutting boards, and an extra large strainer to make this meal. And 2 casserole dishes, 15 napkins, 2 kitchen towels, I grater, and 2 can openers. And 2 (recycled) grocery bags to tote casseroles next door and back, where I used 4 of their spoons, 3 paper towels, 2 bowls, 2 oven mitts, and as mentioned, their oven (just 1).
There aren’t many people who have had my cooking around here —not even many people who invite me to bring my cooking to potlucks anymore. In fact, they often say “oh don’t worry about it —there is plenty.” People are happy to feed me, and I am happily fed.
It was a pretty good casserole after all. Good enough that Fred took some for his dinner break at the store tonight. Good enough to inspire me to write Art Talk and imagine that there is some art component to my work today. Good enough that I remembered that cooking, like painting, takes not only sheer time, but also the desire to make it good and enjoy the making.
My methods today were not totally unlike my art practice. I had an idea. I gathered my materials. I used tools I had on hand to mix ingredients, and I took that huge leap of faith in the what-if-land of creating. I used my own recipe that I have used before, knowing that part of whatever I create has a life of its own that is not under my cognitive control. The result may be quite tasty - it may inspire me and it may feed someone else -- or it may fall flat and I have to reconsider everything. This time, however, the belly is full and the kitchen is clean; the studio is dark, and the artist is on break.
Anne Seltzer owns and works in Art Work studio in Claremont. For more information, visit her website www.artworkgal.com.
