Finding calm in the kitchen isn't always easy. Here's how to start

I have devoted a good deal of my career to teaching others how to become better cooks, and if I had to distill all my lessons down to one, it would be this: Pay close attention.

It may sound overly simplistic, but sometimes the simple lessons are the hardest ones to master - especially if it's 6 o'clock at night, the kids are hungry, the house is a mess and you've got a long list of chores that need doing before bed. The last thing you have time for is to slow down and contemplate the weight of a lemon.

But then again, if you can take a moment, just a moment, to hold that lemon in your hand, to feel the slightly dappled texture of its cool surface, to squeeze and sense its firmness, to take in the brightness of its sunny colour, to dig your thumbnail into the skin and inhale the intense citrus scent, that single moment will teach you something about that lemon: Does it feel fresh and full of juice or somewhat hard and dried out? Is it bigger than average? Does it feel like it has a thick rind or a thin one? That moment can also serve as a reset button and provide a moment of calm amid the chaos of everyday life. And it might inspire you to make something with that lemon, even if it's just to squeeze a spritz into a glass of ice-cold seltzer and take a refreshing swig before going back to whatever it was you were doing.

In addition to providing a moment of calm in a busy day, learning to adapt an attitude of attentiveness can set off a domino effect of other positive reactions. For starters, the more you focus in the kitchen, the more you learn about how cooking works. The more you learn about how cooking works, the better cook you become. The better cook you become, the more relaxing you find the activity and the more you enjoy it. And finally, the more you enjoy it, the more likely you are to do it on a regular basis.

Of course, there are other habits and activities that help us relax - say, knitting, gardening, writing in a journal, yoga - but for people like me who love to eat (and who have trouble sitting still), the kitchen is where I find my balance. And as with any practice or craft, in order for cooking to create calm, it requires a certain mind-set and level of discipline. Here are a few tips for getting there.

Cook what you know
I am all for trying new recipes and broadening your cooking horizons, but if you find cooking generally stressful and want to turn it into a more relaxing experience, the place to start is to learn to cook a few things by rote. If you don't already have a few dishes in your arsenal that you know how to cook without a recipe, then it's worth choosing one or two things that you're willing to commit to learning how to make. It can be as simple as a sheet-pan supper of chicken (like this chicken, capsicum and basil tray bake, above) and vegetables or a pot of buttered pasta with spinach. It doesn't even have to be a proper recipe, but it has to be something you like to eat - because you're going to make it repeatedly until it becomes second nature.

Raw ingredients are endlessly and miraculously varied, and when we can shift our focus off the cookbook page (or the screen) and take the time to really experience the ingredients and our actions, we gather information that helps make better decisions and opens the way to inspiration and improvisation. For instance, if I notice especially thick flesh on the capsicum I'm slicing, I'll know to cut it into smaller pieces and cook it a little longer. Or if the pie dough I'm rolling out starts to stick and feel oily, I'll slide it into the refrigerator to firm up before continuing. By staying alert to what's happening under my nose (and in the pan ), I gain confidence to ignore the paint-by-numbers tyranny of recipes and to follow my instincts.

Make space
In many homes, the kitchen is the centre of activity, which means it can be crowded with dishes, groceries, stacks of junk mail, homework: the general detritus of our daily lives. Before I set out to cook, I clear a space to work. It doesn't have to be a huge area - and if the rest of the kitchen is a mess, it's best to ignore that for now. (Otherwise, I can fall into the rabbit hole of house cleaning, which can also be a grounding experience, but it's not the one that's going to feed me dinner.) All you need is enough room to lay out your ingredients, a cutting board for any chopping, and space on the stove or in the oven for whatever cooking is required. Don't get too worked up about getting everything prepped or measured out; just do a quick inventory to see that you have what you need.

Zone in
I start by taking a deep breath (or two or three) before I pick up the vegetable peeler or knife. Then I imagine I am able to turn up the volume on my senses to take in what I hear, feel, smell, see and taste. I listen for the scrape of the peeler along the length of the carrot; I watch as the brighter orange interior reveals itself and the dried outer layer drops into the sink; I snap off an end piece, crunch it between my teeth and consider its coarse texture and sweetness. I note the sinewy feel of the shiitake stems as I tear them from the velvety caps, and I listen to the light tapping of my knife on the wooden board as I chop an onion. I hear the click of the igniter and the whoosh of gas as I switch on the stove, and I observe the way the oil ripples across the skillet and how it becomes more fluid as it heats. I smell the sweetness of the onion as it hits the hot oil and begins to soften.

Of course, I don't live in a Zen sanctuary - and there are inevitable interruptions and distractions that prevent me from being 100 per cent present in my cooking - but what matters is the effort to focus and to stay in the moment.

Choose your moment
Depending on the daily rhythms of your home and the particular day, finding a moment of calm in the kitchen every day may feel impossible, but it can also be a matter of timing and choice. On a weekly basis, I'll look at my schedule and choose the days and times I know I can find a relatively quiet kitchen and time to focus on what I'm doing. Sometimes this means preparing something in the morning (or the night before) to have a proper dinner ready at dinnertime. Other times, it means I only cook a couple of nights a week.

Perhaps the best example of how important it is to make time to cook comes at Thanksgiving, when two dozen family members converge on the kitchen at the same time. No amount of inner peace that I've stored up during my quiet weeknight cooking routines can prepare me for this onslaught, and I find it impossible to practice any of my mindful cooking habits amid this chaos. Instead, I focus my efforts on make-ahead contributions to the meal (like my mashed potato casserole and roasted turkey broth), and I peacefully prepare these well before the holiday hits.

Remember: It's about the process
Cooking for ourselves should not be about perfection or performance. It's about taking time to feed ourselves and those around us. As I was working on this article, I happened to speak to one of my nieces, a 30-something who lives in Baltimore with her husband and three daughters under age five. She and her husband both work outside of the house, and to say they lead busy lives is a gross understatement. Even so, they make time to cook supper most every night. They often ask me for cooking advice, and I developed two sheet-pan recipes for them: roasted chicken thighs with butternut squash and kale, and roasted salmon with broccoli. They swap in various vegetables, chicken parts and fish, but both recipes have become part of their weekly routines.

"Cooking lets me feel somewhat in control," my niece told me, "and this calms me. Amid all this chaos in our lives, I lay out my ingredients on a clean counter, take a deep breath and literally say to myself, 'I can do this.' And I do! Sometimes the cooking is more calming than the eating."

No matter where it leads, cultivating an attitude of attentiveness makes our time in the kitchen more enjoyable and more effective - and, yes, much more relaxing. Plus, it means there will always be something good to eat. And that is reason enough to feel at peace.

Stevens is the author of "All About Dinner" (W.W. Norton, 2019)

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