Working Poor, Living Rich

TLDR: Get inspired by the recipes I share, not restricted by them.

How My Culinary Journey Started

When I was a senior in college, I had regular appointments with the campus dietician, a free service the college offered.

That dietician’s nutrition advice was awful. I gained back the 30 lbs I had lost a year or two before…and then an extra 30 lbs on top of that.

But the one good piece of advice she had?

Learn to cook now while still living with my parents.

I was 21 and 8 months away from graduating with my bachelor’s degree. Reality was setting in. I needed to learn how to cook a basic meal if I ever wanted to move out of my parents’ house.

Being the Type A person I am (and being terrified of the gas stove), I knew I needed a way to tie this broad goal to something else to ensure its success. I saw an opportunity in my advanced photography class.

We were assigned a semester long photobook project. I had the brilliant idea to make a cookbook. Two birds, one stone!

The photobook had to be a minimum of 20 pages. I decided to make 20 recipes — 4 breakfasts, 4 lunches, 4 dinners, 4 desserts, and 4 bonus recipes. There were 16 weeks in the semester. I made 1 recipe most weeks; a few weeks I had to make 2 recipes.

That was the framework. It didn’t always work out exactly like that, but I still got all 20 recipes cooked and photographed in time to submit the final digital file at the end of the semester.

I was so proud my cookbook, I had it printed and spiral bound so I could use it and cherish it forever!

How I Evolved as a Chef and a Person

When I first started the cookbook project, I adapted recipes from the Internet (with credit, of course). I followed each recipe religiously, never straying. I didn’t have the confidence to experiment yet.

Even though I loved food and cooking shows from a young age, I had no actual cooking abilities. I also psychologically required structure and order (that’s a different backstory for another time).

The first month’s worth of recipes were incredibly stressful on me. I didn’t have the hard skills—like how to judge when meat is done—or the soft skills—like how to time different parts of the meal so it’s all ready to serve at the same time.

It became a little easier after a month, but with plenty of hiccups to come. I tried making Ree Drummond’s crockpot mashed potatoes, but my crockpot tripped the circuit breaker when I plugged it in. I didn’t notice the potatoes weren’t cooking until 30 minutes before dinner was to be served. I had to scramble last minute to think of another side to serve!

I often roped in my parents (against their will) when I either ruined a part of dinner, was afraid the stove was going to explode because it didn’t ignite properly, or couldn’t figure out if the meat was fully cooked.

I needed the psychological safety of having parent in the kitchen with me. A few times, I handed my dad the spatula and walked out of the kitchen because my brain couldn’t handle it anymore.

But there were many times when I only needed one of them to answer a question I had and they would just commandeer the task, shutting me out of the process! My grandmother was the same way too.

This never helped me learn. It just frustrated the hell out of me and put a (temporary) strain on our relationship.

So I stopped asking my parents for help in the kitchen. This was a pivotal moment in my transition to adulthood.

Most young people learn how to cook from their parents or grandparents. But not me. Alton Brown became my dad in the kitchen. I used his classic show Good Eats and good ol’ trial and error to teach myself.

After a year, I finally felt confident enough to stray from a recipe.

Gasp!

I know right?

Sometimes I would read a recipe online and think

Why the hell would they do that? I’m not doing that? I’m gonna do it my way instead!

Only upon failure would I realize why that recipe instructed me to do it a certain way.

I’ve also followed some recipes to a T, and they turned out to be a disaster! Not every recipe is a good one.

Six years later, I still live at home with my parents, and I’m still struggling with my career and finances. But I’ve become a much better judge of when it’s safe to stray from the recipe and when to stay the course.

I’m so confident in the kitchen now that some nights, I’ll throw together random-ass ingredients last minute, just for fun. It’s like an episode of Chopped.

I excitedly warn my parents that I have no idea how this is going to turn out. I’m pretty sure they see that as a red flag, but I no longer fear the repercussions. We’ll eat almost anything once as long as it’s edible. If it’s not good, I won’t make it again, or I’ll try again but with some improvements.

Sometimes it turns out great! I make the best chili, but never the same way twice.

Don’t get me wrong. They aren’t all winners. Like my baked bean, ham, and canned beets with all spice one skillet meal. Even though I drained the beets, the entire meal turned an unsettling shade of deep purple-red. And the canned beets plus the canned beans created a most unpleasant texture. Won’t be making that one again.

Every good and bad experience in the kitchen builds a knowledge bank in our heads.

My Philosophy in the Kitchen

Personal tastes are just that: personal. I don’t expect you, the reader, to follow every single one of my recipes to a T.

If you don’t like or are allergic to a certain food, sub it.

If you don’t have a specific ingredient on hand, swap it.

If you have a bigger or smaller family to feed, scale it.

If you have different produce available than I do, localize it.

If you found a helluva good deal in your local grocery store’s clearance bin, get it!

If you were given an unexpected item from your local food pantry, experiment with it.

Get inspired by the recipes I share, not restricted by them.

Conclusion

I’m still resentful about the 60 lbs I gained from that awful dietician’s advice. But I am eternally grateful she encouraged me to learn how to cook.

Even on a budget, I now find creativity and joy on the menu, not eternal stress and damnation.

You may get some pushback from your family about the random-ass meals you make. But it’s worth it. That’s true freedom. That’s how you grow and evolve as a chef and as a person.

I hope Working Poor, Living Rich inspires you to make the most out of every meal, no matter your budget or skills.

Stay hungry, my friends,

Jenny Z.