The cooking shows lied to you.
They made you believe that every carrot must be lined up.
Every herb washed and patted dry.
Every spice jar opened with military precision before the first onion hits the pan.
That’s theater.
It’s choreography for the camera.
Real kitchens are messier.
There’s a half-peeled onion on the counter.
The garlic press is still in the drawer.
You realize halfway through that you’re out of cumin.
And here’s the truth: no one cares.
Your friends don’t leave saying, “The parsley wasn’t chopped uniformly.”
They leave saying, “That stew was delicious.”
They leave saying, “We should do this again.”
Mise en place is useful, sure.
But it’s not the point.
The point is that you cooked.
Dinner is not a performance.
It’s a gift.
And gifts don’t need to be perfect to matter.