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I think there's so much I've realized and learned since I started filming cooking videos.

Initially, it was embarrassing because I never thought I'd actually see myself cooking.

Then, various things started bothering me. My knife grip, how I cut vegetables, how I hold my chopsticks, my posture—many things just looked "off" when I saw them on video.

Since I can fix what bothers me, I'm still a work in progress, but I think I'm gradually correcting things.

I had a similar experience in the past. At an end-of-year party at my previous job, I ended up participating in a project where colleagues and I performed a song. We went to karaoke to practice and recorded ourselves, but watching it was truly awful because it was so embarrassing and poorly done. I remember disliking performing in front of everyone, but seeing my own video was exponentially worse.

However, as we continued with the cycle of recording → practicing → recording → practicing, we clearly improved. By around the third time, I no longer minded watching myself on video and even started thinking things like, "I should do this a little differently."

I tend to overestimate my own abilities, so seeing myself from a third-person perspective, like on video, helps me understand my true skill level. I've realized again that it's essential for growth. Still, I'd rather not watch myself too much, to be honest.

As I've started cooking more, I've become interested in various ingredients and seasonings. I'm now able to try foods I've never eaten before, and even those I used to dislike a bit.

It's strange, but when I look at each ingredient individually, I wonder why I ever thought it wasn't tasty. It's really fun to discover more and more things that I actually find quite delicious!

However, there's still one thing I absolutely cannot eat. That's raw oysters. I just can't eat raw oysters.

I think fried oysters are delicious, and I can even eat them simply boiled in salt, but raw oysters are just too much for me.

There's a reason for it. When I was in middle school, I went to a conveyor belt sushi restaurant with my parents, and a raw oyster sushi came by. At the time, I had never eaten raw oysters before, and I mistook it for fried oyster sushi, so I just popped it in my mouth. The fishy smell and the squishy texture that spread in my mouth made me go "ugh," and after that, I couldn't eat raw oysters anymore.

If I hadn't mistaken it for fried oysters, I probably would have been able to eat it. It's frustrating.

I'm happy and find it enjoyable that when I become interested in something, that area expands and becomes even more fun.

A professional gamer said the secret to getting better at games was to "enjoy playing them." I thought, "That's not what I meant, just tell me the actual tips!"

Anyway, switching topics, I think I'm a pretty good driver. Several times I've been asked for tips on how to become a better driver, but I think I've always talked about quantity rather than actual tips, like "You'll get better if you drive a lot," or "Drive every day, and if you haven't improved after a year, then come back and tell me."

Anyway, switching topics again, right now I want to get better at cooking. I want to know the tips. I read books and watch a lot of cooking channels on YouTube. I can learn specific cooking methods, but no one teaches me special moves like "Pinch your right earlobe before cooking and it'll taste delicious."

I kind of suspected it, but is it true there really aren't any secrets?

Cooking is fun, so I do it every day, but if there's a secret to getting instantly better, I wish someone would secretly tell just me.

There were never any snacks at my childhood home.
So I have almost no memories of eating snacks at home when I was a kid.

I don't remember ever throwing a tantrum for snacks in the supermarket aisle,
and since I was never given them,
I never felt the need for them during my childhood.

However, there is one snack that stands out in my memory
as something that would occasionally appear when friends came over.
Doughnuts.

Doughnuts made from pancake mix,
freshly fried and coated in sugar.
They only appeared once in a while, but they were delicious and I loved them.
Now I realize it must have been quite a hassle
to be deep-frying things around snack time.

I was reminded of this when I went to Mister Donut
for the first time in a while and bought some doughnuts.

Mister Donut is truly delicious!

I suddenly wondered how many more times I'd be able to eat pasta.

I have no confirmation of this, but assuming I live another 50 years, and since I don't eat pasta for breakfast and not much for dinner, if I were to eat pasta for lunch every day, that would be 365 days x 50 years = 18,250 times.

Is that a lot or a little? Hmm. In reality, I eat pasta much less frequently, so even if it's half that, it's 9,000 times. Even then, it feels like I'd still get to eat it a fair amount.

Before doing the calculation, I was going to say something like, "It's fewer times than I thought, so I should savor each meal," but with 9,000 times, I realized it would be hard to cherish each and every one.

So, what about curry? I only eat curry about once a month, so that's 12 times a year, meaning 12 times x 50 years = 600 times.

If I only have 600 times, I should savor each one! ...But no, that still doesn't feel right.

It's no good. I feel like I can't cherish it unless it's down to about ten times.

Instead of focusing on the number of times, I'm switching to a strategy of cherishing and savoring each meal.

When I think of my mom's home cooking, it's curry.

There might be other dishes, but curry is the first thing that comes to mind.
I just gave it a little thought, but nothing else came to mind besides curry.
"How rude! I made all sorts of things!"
I can almost hear her scolding me.

The characteristics of our family's curry were like this:
・Chicken thighs
・Vegetables are carrots, onions, and potatoes
・Sprinkle curry powder on the meat when searing it
・Mix two types of store-bought curry roux
・A lot of liquid

The effect of my mom's home cooking is amazing.
Even now, I make curry once a month, but it's almost the exact same process.
The only differences are that I now chop the vegetables finely and sometimes switch the meat to ground meat.

Even though I occasionally try various recipes on a whim, it's strange how I always end up coming back to the original.
It's also strange how, even when I eat curry out, I still think the curry I made myself is the most delicious.

Is this, by now, my mom's curse?
"How rude! Just say it's delicious!"
I can almost hear her scolding me.