I rarely measure when I cook. I was taught to cook by a measure-loving mother, and she made good food, so no disrespect to the measuring cooks. When food is prepared for my benefit by other people then it is food and I am glad to have it and I appreciate its flavors. But, by some narcissistic mechanism, when I prepare food, it is art.

Artwork can still be meaured, or have measured elements. If I am trying a new recipe or something baked I will at least attempt to measure (my kitchen lacks measuring implements, so the Mocha Chocolate Trifle was made by best-guessing). But measuring is like rehearsed art. It is fine art, it is disciplined art, and it is not as suited to my self-indulgent temperment.

When I go to cook, my first question is “What do I have to work with?” Once I have gotten started on something, I then ask “What would go with this? What would harmonize and what would contrast?”

Earlier in the week, I began with chicken. But what starch? Potatoes? None at the moment. Pasta? Had it recently. Rice? Okay, rice. But then what with the rice? Not plain rice and plain chicken. . . what?

Back to the breadcrumbs. I guess I did that already once, and recently really, but it sounded novel enough so I was content. What else, though? That would not suffice. What to go with the breadcrumbed rice? Spinach. Frozen spinach. But too plain. Olive oil and garlic? That’s what I always do with spinach. What else have I got? The frig is getting empty, I don’t have many choices.

Cranberries. Yes, dried cranberries in spinach. Tart but sweet, they contrast with the drear, dull spinach that thinks only of being bitter one day, perhaps. Fresh spinach gets quite close to sweetness, but this inferior brand of frozen spinach needed help to be pleasant. And cranberries, as unexpected as they were, did a game job of trying. Something still lacked. . .ginger? Nutmeg? I couldn’t decide. Maybe just better spinach. Still, the experiment was a success.

Switching meals and days entirely, on to oatmeal. Or porridge, anyway. I have been adding some cornmeal to my oatmeal because I like corny food. Since I don’t measure it, it’s different every time. I’ve also been adding blueberries but either I didn’t freeze the best blueberries or the infernal self-defrosting refrigerator has abused them; they are lackuster, almost more sour than anything else (and I am not fussy about most fruit in its less than fully ripe condition). But today I had a hearty does of cornmeal, blueberries, and some rasins, and that was a good porridge. Go and do likewise. Banish the bland monotonous oatmeal.