I made my decision not to cook anymore two weeks ago, and I have stuck to it. I have a feeling I have done this before, but this time, I really mean it. I am tired of the struggle to win and impress, to impress even myself, to be engaged mentally with food, which, if I just forget about it, will probably just present itself to me anyway. Last night my boyfriend brought home prosciutto, melon, bread, some Saint- André cheese and a mixture of olives and feta in a little oil and vinegar that they sell at our local supermarket and which, along with just enough salad to ward off disease, I would be perfectly happy to live on.

I went to sleep rested, un-buoyed by success, and un-flattened by failure.

Sarah Miller, for Popula, on her love-hate relationship with cooking.

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Photo: reractedmoments, Flickr