These aspects of upbringing were botched by my parents and grandparents. I don’t hold it against them; they taught me many other things. My grandmother hailed from a small, agriculturally influenced village. She apprenticed in the best tailor salon of her time in the capital. How she managed that, I unfortunately don’t know, as I never asked her during her lifetime, and at some point, it was too late. Unfortunately, my mother never asked her that question either. Nevertheless, my grandmother not only learned to sew dresses in that upscale ladies’ tailoring salon but also to cook sensational dishes. Thus, my grandmother possessed a broad cooking repertoire, ranging from simple, very inexpensive village recipes mainly made from flour, potatoes, eggs, yeast, and milk (which I loved as a child), to super elaborate, upscale, and expensive meat dishes such as stuffed poultry. As a child, I especially loved it when she made pasta in bulk. She rolled out huge sheets of dough that were then laid out to dry everywhere in the apartment—on chairs, on the table, on cabinets like curtains, on the sofa, just everywhere. That was always the day when her apartment looked like an enchanted castle because you had to move very carefully between them. But my grandmother never asked me to help her cook. I watched or played with buttons. Apart from fabrics, buttons, needles, and thread, there was nothing to play with in her apartment (fortunately for me as a child, to fuel my imagination). I never cooked with her.

My mother was very adventurous as a cook, and I hated it. A meal without meat was not a proper meal for my mother. Except for cabbage, potatoes, peas, and carrots, hardly any vegetables appeared in her kitchen. The phrase that almost always came when I refused to eat (or finish eating) was one I couldn’t stand anymore—’You don’t have to finish everything, except the meat.’ And sure, I was willing to eat everything, but NOT the meat. My mother also never asked for help in cooking; she liked to cook alone. Help was needed in cleaning up. That was my task. Thus, my relationship with cooking has been rather negative since my childhood. How can one waste half a day and make something that will be eaten in 30 minutes? And there’s still cleaning up to do. For me, raw food (vegetables, fruits, and nuts) was the right variant for my own nutrition. During times when I lived alone, that was my diet plan.

When I had my birthday recently, my girlfriend asked me what I wanted. I thought for a few minutes and wished that she would teach me one of those dishes. Buchtel was on the menu. She had never made Buchtel before. She approached my wish very professionally. She studied recipes, reviews, conducted interviews, and tried it herself. Her own family was more than tired of Buchtel after a month!

I can proudly say that with guidance, I can cook superbly, and that one time I could develop a passion for my end product. But like everything you do without love and passion, no outstanding results can be achieved. Let me solve a tricky problem, and I’m in immediately. No challenge is too big for me, but with cooking, I believe it will never happen!