Yesterday, when I woke up, I was 29 years old with mere hours left in my twenties. Last night/this morning when I went to bed, I had entered into a new decade. 30. Thirty. Thir-ty. I've been practicing saying this for a few weeks, so my tongue wraps around the number nicely. It's also a plus that I happen to prefer even numbers. Most odd number years just end badly for me.
Turns out, I'm actually happy to enter my 30's. Single mom sounds better in your 30's than 20's. As though having a child out of wedlock in your 20's labels you as a loose woman. Nevermind that it was late 20's and I have no regrets. Stigmas are what they are. I don't feel yet that I've reached my prime. Which is funny, seeing as when I was entering into my 20's that 30 seems far away and ancient. How very very wrong I was on both accounts.
There are things that I want to accomplish this year, regardless of age, but now I think I'm turning them into goals for the decade. Things to do before 40. Not a bucket list, but just goals. For example, I want to be a better cook. I was a late bloomer with cooking. I burned myself on a waffle maker as a child and it put me out of the kitchen until I was 19 and living on my own. Even then, it started slowly. I picked up things here and there working in the restaurant industry that I would take home and practice. I looked online for recipes to work on making what has already been made. Then I started to get fearless. Now I try and throw things together that I think will taste good. There are complimentary colors, I like complimentary flavors. I work off feel vs recipe (unless, I'm specifically working off recipe), and there are no measurements for what I tend to make. I like winging it.
Part of this particular goal in cooking is french food. I am, and have always been, something of a francophile. Which is hilarious to me considering that while I have a passporte, I have yet to exit the United States with it. I had meant to go for my 30th this year, but it didn't work out. Mostly because of actual work. But that's another story. I digress... So I've been looking for French cookbooks lately, something I can start working out of ala Julie & Julia, only without the Julia Childs bit. I've never been a huge fan, and French cookbooks for Americans just seems somewhat patronizing. I'm sure there are some out there that will label me as blasphemous, but that's how I feel. If I'm wrong, I'm wrong. I want authenticity. Which, let me tell you, is hard to find in the Barnes & Nobles and Borders of this world. I'll continue looking for what it is that I'm looking for, and hopefully will have some good stories to tell about the adventures in the kitchen which will ensue. In the meantime, I'm trying to build up my cookware. Today I added souffle cups to my wish list. Along with a terrine and a hand mandolin.
I hope by the time I hit 31 that I'll have come farther in my cooking goal. This year is going to be an adventure.
