If I kept a cooking blog, I wouldn’t share my recipes.
Not because I’m stingy. I’d try to teach people the art of cooking sans recipe. I’d try to tell them how you start with an idea, like stuffing something other than a pepper, and think about acorn squash, and what would go with it, and how quinoa would taste more savory with dried cherries than with cranberries, and how the right nut to pair with the sweetness of the squash would be pecans, or maybe walnuts, or slivered almonds. You think about how the onions could go in slightly cooked for crispness, but then on a whim you caramelize them, and then say, well, let’s go all out then, and you open the spice cupboard and then you’ve really lost it, and there is cinnamon and hints of nutmeg and sweet basil from the herb garden because, why not, it’s summer, and then you sit down to take a bite and say, “My God, this is delicious,” but then you realize you wrote none of it down, and can’t even remember all of it, and if you ever make it again, it will never taste quite the same, since that day you might decide cumin instead of cinnamon, and raisins instead of cherries, and couscous instead of quinoa, and you will never ever again taste exactly what you are tasting right now, and then the realization that this is what makes it perfect.