>Several years ago I packed all my possessions into my car and moved to Missouri. Once I’d arrived and somewhat settled in, I roasted a chicken. This chicken had oil-rubbed skin that became crispy, and juicy flesh, and lemon and herbs inside. Delicious.
In the spirit of adventure and friendship, I offered to share with one of my new roommates. She replied that she would be happy to partake of my proffered fare, provided I removed the meat from the bones and kept the offending carcass away from the dining room. She informed me that she was unable to eat chicken or any other animal product if she could see and thus “know” that there were bones associated with the meat. It “grossed her out” to think about that. She would eat it, but not if she had to think about where it came from.
I’m no foodie preacher, I try but consistently fail to grow something, anything, to eat, and I maintain few dietary restrictions. The reasons I cook are many, but I think the most important reason is this: When I cook my food, I know my food. I feel the vegetables and fruits, the fish and meats and fowl, I can reasonably judge a bread dough by its moisture, and I know exactly what I’m sustaining my body with.
My hope for you is that you are comfortable enough with what you eat that you can think about where it might have come from. I hope you have comfort foods you cook, and new dishes to stretch your skills. Spring is here today! Play with your food.