Готовить я научился в сорок

Until last year, I couldn't cook. I don't mean that I was a bad cook. I mean that I couldn't make anything at all, except tea and sandwiches.

On my fortieth birthday my daughter gave me a book of simple recipes. “Dad,” she said, “it's time.” I laughed, but that night I read the whole book.

My first try was a tomato soup. The recipe said twenty minutes. It took me two hours, I burned the onions, and the kitchen smelled terrible for days. My daughter ate it anyway and said it was “interesting”.

But I didn't give up. I decided to cook one new thing every Sunday. Here is what I have learned since then.

Read the whole recipe before you start. Twice. Salt is your friend, but only in small amounts. Don't be afraid of mistakes: a burned potato is still a lesson. And cook for other people. Food tastes better when you share it.

A year later, I can make about thirty different things. Last month I baked bread for the first time, and my family finished it in ten minutes. I have never had a better review.

If you think it's too late to learn something new, it isn't. Pick one recipe this weekend and try it. And open the windows, just in case.