From the WSJ Opinion Archives
TASTE COMMENTARY
Remedial Cooking
Many young women wish they knew their way around the kitchen.
How was your holiday? For thousands of would-be cooks from the famous Generation X (or Y and maybe Z), it might well have been a disaster without the help of a nearby gourmet market, ready to deliver a "home cooked" Thanksgiving meal (assuming that Mom didn't save the day). Yes, these young women can make sense of elaborate spreadsheets, quote Shakespeare, and tone discrete muscle groups--all at the same multitasking moment. But put poultry in front of them and panic sets in. To achieve the fabled charm of a Thanksgiving dinner--and of course there is a lot more to worry about than just the turkey--you have to be a confident, if not experienced, cook. And cooking is the one thing that mothers don't bother teach their daughters anymore.
Pop culture has certainly taken note of this. Movies like "Pieces of April" (2003) depend for their laughs, and even their plots, on young women not knowing a pot from a pan. Flipping through TV stations last Sunday night, viewers might have found an episode of "Grey's Anatomy" featuring a female, 20-something medical intern learning how to make her holiday dinner from a middle-aged male surgeon (whose mother happened to own a restaurant).
And who could blame her for her ignorance? If women in their 20s and 30s don't know how to cook, it's not really their fault. When were lessons on domestic arts supposed to be squeezed in? High school was devoted to studies, activities that impress colleges, and efforts to keep parents at arm's length. College was spent away from home, with meals coming from the cafeteria, the pizza place or a Ramen noodle container. Joining the work force precluded any sustained attention to home life too. Even getting married doesn't seem to force women to take out the food processor they registered for. The idea that a guy would expect a gal to know how to cook is practically prehistoric: Gender roles are so last millennium.
But somewhere along the line, it seems, American women do heed the call of the kitchen. Priorities change, and the notion of being able to craft an edible portion of a dinner--or the entire thing--becomes a worthy ambition.
This transformation has received attention lately with the publication of Julie Powell's memoir "Julie and Julia." Ms. Powell was living in Williamsburg, Brooklyn (an artsy hip neighborhood), and enjoying a not-so-stellar temping career. After one hectic day, she tries out a simple Julia Child soup recipe. Her husband praises it and suggests that she go to culinary school. Her reply: "If I wanted to learn to cook, I'd just cook my way through 'Mastering the Art of French Cooking.' "
Which she then proceeds to do. In one year, she cooks all of the book's 524 recipes. The year has its mishaps, but in the end she gets the hang of it, and she can even make mayonnaise by hand. There are ways of learning to cook without making such a mammoth commitment, of course. What it requires is a shift in perspective.
The shift happens when the routine of a mad rush to the corner office wears thin. Or after being jostled at too many bars, spending too much money on lousy dinners, and missing out on time with friends or family. Then it seems to dawn on young women: Maybe cooking dinner doesn't undo the sexual revolution.
But many women are at a loss. Elizabeth Kopania, 24, who grew up on a farm in western Pennsylvania, says that she didn't soak up much instruction at home. Now that she is living with her husband in Wilmington, Del., she finds it somewhat disappointing that she didn't pay more attention to her mother's skills. "At this point," she says, "I'm playing catch-up."
Ms. Kopania has begun catching up mainly by watching the Food Network and using its Web site for guidance. She is not alone. The rise of celebrity chefs has made learning to cook a television event. Shows like Rachel Ray's "30-Minute Meals" are accessible, relaxing and informative. One suspects, however, that something is lost when we substitute printouts of Emeril's pumpkin crème brulée for handwritten index cards with instructions for making banana bread.
But even if cooking is not shared among different generations, it can still be shared. Indeed, some young couples are taking it up together. Eileen Sheffler, 31, who recently left Washington, D.C., to be with her boyfriend in Jackson Hole, Wyo., says that cooking didn't used to be a priority for her. But now "I've learned to enjoy cooking with him. We have the time to enjoy that process together."
It's a much different life than her mother's, Ms. Sheffler recalls. "She always loved to entertain, but she was raising three kids, working full-time, and she was active in the community." Ms. Sheffler remembers that, no matter how hectic schedules were, her family always had a sit-down Sunday dinner.
With life moving at such a speedy pace now, though, it is even questionable whether mothers have the time to show children the basics. Teaching someone to cook takes time, a willing student--and a patient parent. If college (for the student) and work (for the parent) are looming large, what's the point in going over beef Wellington? Tuna salad will do.
Those whose mothers weren't cooks to begin with have an even greater challenge. Amanda Cummins, 32, after growing up in a family that frequented take-out joints and living in Manhattan for years, moved to Utah and realized how much she didn't know. "In New York, I had my stack of 300 menus. There was very little incentive to cook for one [person]," she says from her new home in Salt Lake City. "I feel a lot more pressure about not knowing how to cook in Utah than I did in New York." In part that's because her fiancé's family often has potluck gatherings. "All the women bring dishes," she notes. "I really would like to be at the point where I could contribute."
Meanwhile, some men are picking up the slack. Chef Gordon Ramsay, who recently traveled throughout Britain for his new BBC show, told the Radio Times: "There are huge numbers of young women out there who know how to mix cocktails but can't cook to save their lives, whereas men are finding their way into the kitchen in ever growing numbers." And why not? After all, if men are living on their own for 10 years, between leaving their childhood homes and getting married, should they have to survive on frozen pizza?
Fortunately for both men and women, the ability to cook is not a political statement anymore. We've come a long way--even since the days of Hilary Clinton's famous proclamation: "I suppose I could have stayed home and baked cookies and had tea, but what I decided to do was to fulfill my profession." Knowing how to cook does not imply that a woman is a homemaker in training, a Laura Petri wannabe. Nor does such knowledge on the part of a man imply that he is doing "woman's work." It just means that a person likes to eat well--inside the home.
So if you're thinking of tackling that turkey next year, watch some TV, enlist your husband's help and--if all else fails--call Mom.
Ms. Catton is food editor at the New York Sun and co-author, with Ira Freehof, of "The Comfort Diner Cookbook."
