A recent conversation with a friend got me thinking about
the practice of zen-cuisine from an interesting perspective. Her curiosity
about mindfulness in the kitchen made me ponder: “What do we get out of practicing zen-cuisine? What is different about
preparing and eating food mindfully? What does awareness bring to our
cooking?” So, I stand in the kitchen,
and breathe slowly, aware of what is happening in the present moment. I notice the wonder of what is unfolding: the
kettle steams and whistles; the blender
pulses and hums; the hands holding the paring knife move deftly among the
vegetables; breath fills the lungs and enlivens the blood and the body; the
heart beats --life flows moment to moment into endless experience… arising, and
falling away. We interpenetrate this
flow of experience, this miracle of becoming –and yet, we often miss what is
happening. We get caught up in t thought, and confuse our thinking about
experience with the experience itself. We’re
inside a self-created illusion.
Do we
understand how this illusion touches our experience in the kitchen, colouring what we do
with past worries or future concerns? Suppose we are planning to make “cauliflower
popcorn”, a recipe that takes a little bit of manual labour to prepare. We need
to break the giant snowy-white head into individual bite-size pieces. Can we,
as zen-cuisine suggests, ground ourselves in the present moment and really
experience the act of preparing the vegetable and our identity as the prep-cook
as one? A false sense of what’s real causes us to see ourselves as a separate
entity. We become an “I” trapped in repetitive, habitual patterns of thought
about our situation. Underlying this confusion is an uneasy discomfort, a
constant stream of opinion and judgment about us and other s. We try to
manipulate the present moment, and we begin to feel as if “I” and the activity
are separate things. We pick up the cauliflower and begin to carefully separate
it into pieces. But unless we are mindful of our awareness, our discursive
thinking offers endless possibilities for moving away from the present moment
into a dream-world of conjecture: “I ‘m not doing this right. I may not impress
my guests with the cauliflower dish the way I did last week with the avocado
salad. I’m too busy and too important to waste all this time separating
cauliflower into a million little pieces. Who likes cauliflower anyway?” We allow these thought-patterns to run through
the mind, and in turn they shape the way we look at, and evaluate, our time in
the kitchen.
Underlying this ‘value system’ we've created is a subtle fear of opening to what
is actually happening in the present moment. We sense dissatisfaction with the
ordinariness of our experience. Surrendering
our self-centeredness to the process of meal preparation makes us nervous. We feel
vulnerable, and distressed to not be in control. We try to protect our sense of
being special, of being this important “I” by moving away from our immediate
experience. In holding on to this illusory identity, we try to manipulate reality
into our idea of how things should be. But it never works. In our confusion, we easily get lost in our
illusion of separateness. Zen-cuisine
offers us the opportunity to wake up out of this dream.
First, we open
ourselves to the present moment, embracing an awareness of our illusion. We pay
attention to the workings of our mind, and experience thoughts for what they
are…thoughts about reality, not reality itself. As we center ourselves in the
present moment, we ‘become’ the separating of the cauliflower into florets, the
mixing of the oil and spices for a marinade, the bubbling of the caramelizing
sugars in the roasting pan. We touch
each moment of experience with bare attention. We feel it with all our sense,
and appreciate and savour the flow of experience. We participate wholly in
life’s surge of energies. This attentiveness allows us to see through the false
dream of isolated, ego-centered separation from ‘what is’. The true nature of
reality, the interconnectedness of all that exists, penetrates us and our
activities with the joy of being alive. Zen-cuisine practice opens us to living
fully in the present moment. We separate the cauliflower florets joyfully,
aware of the intricate beauty and wonder of each floret. We cook without
judgments or opinions for no reason other than to prepare the vegetable recipe
with mindfulness. As Joko Beck wrote in Everyday Zen, “The joy of our life is
in totally doing what has to be done. It’s not even what has to be done; it’s
there to be done so we do it.” Happy cooking!
For the recipe for delicious "Cauliflower Popcorn" pop into Juicy Foods the tasty cooking blog.
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