Gentrification Turned Me Into A Cook

It all started when I was looking for a place to eat with a friend in uptown NYC. My friend is in a wheelchair, so I needed to find somewhere accessible. Easy right? Just look for the ol' wheelchair accessible seal of approval on Yelp. Let's see how that went: Gluten-free? Check. Pet-friendly? Check. Pokestop? Check. Ah, must have skipped over wheelchair accessible. (Reads list again.) Seriously? Guess that didn't make the cut. Not a problem. Deft twenty-first-century Yelp skills to the rescue. "Sort by wheelchair-accessible." Click. Pats self on the back.

What I was left with was only a handful of places within reasonable walking distance of our concert in Manhattan. Manhattan: where every garbage can is a potential microbrewery and each bench is spoken for by an urban-foraging pop-up restaurant. I called two places before giving up. One who said they were accessible, but "...we do have like a big step though." The other who proudly displayed a $26 hamburger. $26?! Twenty-six?

How can a place be woke and hip when it excludes the very people their patrons vow to protect? These inaccessible food-debtor caverns were the last straw. I decided I would be eating home much more often.

If artisanal cheese factories overtake our delis, I can think of a few reasons why a retreat to the kitchen might not be such a bad thing.

3. Menial Labor.  know it sounds ridiculous, but I find the minutia of cooking to be deeply meditative. It is one of the few times in today's world when you are forced to shut out the outside world—lest you overcook your filet mignon.

2. Pride knowing you made something as good as a restaurant dish. Pride that it was cheaper and you could eat it at whatever pace you want without someone crouched by your side asking, "Are you still working on that" as if your ham sandwich were a project. The simple pride of being in touch with your own sustenance; something that is rare now—just ask Siri if you don't believe me.

3. Community. You can take back the community stop leasing your social life. Your crappy apartment can be just as swagalicious as that new hookah, ballroom-dancing joint. We all know that alcohol is the real social lubricant anyway—this is what BYOBs are made for. Why live a manufactured experience designed to appeal to you? You can be you. Be your own experience.

In your home everyone can be welcome—just watch out for that big step; it's a doozy.