Ah, if only it were that easy. But let’s face it: we’re recovering addicts. Processed food is deliberately loaded with brain-pleasing salt [...]]]> Ok, so you’ve read your Michael Pollan, bought The Art of Simple Food, and now you’re dedicated to the proposition that home-cooking is where it’s at. No more processed food for you. No, sir.

Ah, if only it were that easy. But let’s face it: we’re recovering addicts. Processed food is deliberately loaded with brain-pleasing salt and sugar. It comes in pretty packages and needs only to be emptied into a pot or warmed in the oven. Instant gratification never felt so good.

Hi, my name is Paul and I’m a junk-foodaholic. I fondly remember childhood buckets of KFC. Half the stuff I ate as a kid came from a can. In university the heady aroma of an Egg McMuffin seduced me on many a hungover morning. Junk food still tempts me, as does any sort of processed, packaged, preserved, bottled, instant food that is going to save me precious time in the kitchen.

So what are some possible coping strategies for recovering junk-foodaholics like me?

1. Be nice to yourself. If you made one fabulous, home-cooked dinner this week and ate crap the other six days, don’t beat yourself up. Instead, try saying: “Well done, me. I could have eaten crap all week long, but I didn’t. I made that one great meal.” Prepackaged, processed foods have been such a marketing success in recent decades because people are busy. It’s really, really hard sometimes to make the time to cook. So pat yourself on the back when you do. Emphasize the positive and don’t be rigid about those resolutions.
2. Keep it fun. I don’t love cooking all the time. Which is why I usually try to emphasize meals that are dead simple and easy. By not boring or exhausting myself on a daily basis, I find I’m much more likely to go for that genuinely entertaining feast once and a while. You know, the kind where you try something new (occasionally requiring exotic ingredients or a new kitchen toy) and impress whomever you’re sharing it with. Those memorable occasions are the ones that keep me coming back for more. Last summer, for example, I made cherry pie from fresh, whole organic cherries. Pitting the cherries by hand made it an epic five-hour undertaking, which I’m not likely to repeat, but I can still taste that pie, and it still makes me happy to think about it.
3. Stick to it and gradually learn. Everybody can follow a recipe, so it’s sometimes easy for me to forget what a complex skill cooking is. In the early days of my effort to do more home cooking I had the added stress of not knowing anything about anything. Didn’t know what ingredients or spices to use. Didn’t know what any of the kitchen gear was for. Total ignorance. My only hope was to follow a recipe the way a contractor follows a blueprint. I know now what a drag that was. I couldn’t do anything quickly, and I couldn’t improvise. The point is that it gets a lot—a lot—easier to make good food from scratch over time. Eventually, you’ll be doing everything unconsciously and it’ll be almost as fast and easy as dumping the canned soup in the pot. So stick with it.
4. Get inspired. Inevitably, there will be times when enthusiasm wanes. Watching hilarious old Julia Child clips on YouTube or picking up an entertaining food book are great ways to rekindle interest. Here are three titles (we’ll take Michael P. as read) I can suggest off the top of my head: Kitchen Confidential by Anthony Bourdain, Swindled by Bee Wilson, and Kitchen Literacy by Ann Vileisis. If you’re a twitterer, following the @Jambutter/ProFood list will provide you with interesting food and food politics links. Feed your mind and the stomach will follow.

It’s become an axiom of food politics that progress in a free marketplace is going to require a resurgence in home cooking. The dollar-votes of people who know how to cook are what we’re all counting on to help reform our entire food system from the laboratories of Monsanto to the farmer’s field to restaurants, to distributors and grocery stores. Good food has always been a pleasure. Now it’s a cause as well.

It’d be nice if cooking became something we all encouraged each other to do. It’s good for our health, good for our relationships, and good for the planet. How many pleasurable activities are there that you can so readily say that about? I don’t know about you, but I like the chances of a political movement that’s solidly based on hedonism.

Now…what am I going to make for dinner tonight?