Cooking is a lot like writing, I’ve decided.

For people who do and do seriously – by that I mean, people for whom these acts fulfill a larger desire than just a way to get from point A to point B – the stakes are extraordinarily high. Often higher than we might even admit to ourselves.

I got interested in making good meals a couple of months ago, a fairly recent development by any measure. With the purchase of a several cookbooks that Amazon.com told me were must haves (How to Cook Everything by Mark Bittman, The Joy of Cooking by Irma S. Rombauer, The Way To Cook by Julia Child) and a good non-stick pan, I took a deep breath and made my peace with the fact that my self-esteem was probably going to take a beating.

The first time I really tried to make something that didn’t end up turning out (cocoa brownies), I told myself that cooking has a steep learning curve. Like making good pancakes, you have to first make it over the initial hurdle. Because – and lets just be honest, here – no matter how talented of a pancake chef you are, that first pancake or two will look lopsided. The consistency will not be even and chances are, the inside will still be raw when you bite into it several minutes later. That’s practically a law of nature.

Personally, I was not blessed with the aptitude for pancaking (something about a wrist motion?) but Pat – Pat makes these incredible pancakes. I love watching that man cook. The way the steady curve of his shoulders fall and dip into the tuck of his waist, how his posture shifts just slightly when he’s ready to turn on the stove; his eagerness. As it is, his pancakes are perfect – golden, soft, and the skin yields just enough when you take the first bite with the slightest hint of crisp at the edges.

And as for me, I have yet to make a successful dish more than once. My results in the kitchen are such that I can’t in good faith attribute the outcomes to anything more than luck. I’m okay with that though. Good things happen slowly.

At least for now.