I burned the garlic. Again.
This is attempt number four at making a decent aglio e olio, and I keep making the same mistake. The oil gets too hot, the garlic goes from golden to charcoal in seconds, and I’m left with bitter, acrid pasta that goes straight into the trash.
But I’m learning. Attempt one was a complete disaster—I didn’t even know garlic could burn that fast. Attempt two was better; I managed to keep the garlic blonde, but the pasta was overcooked. Attempt three had perfect pasta but no flavor because I was so paranoid about burning the garlic that I barely cooked it at all.
Cooking, it turns out, is a lot like programming. You start with a recipe (specification), but the real learning happens through iteration. Each failure teaches you something new about heat, timing, ingredients—variables you didn’t even know existed.
The best cooks I know aren’t the ones who never make mistakes. They’re the ones who make mistakes quickly, learn from them, and try again. They taste constantly, adjust frequently, and aren’t afraid to start over if something goes wrong.
Tonight I’m trying again. Fifth time’s the charm, right? This time I’m keeping the heat lower, watching the garlic like a hawk, and tasting every step of the way.
The beautiful thing about cooking is that failure is temporary. There’s always another chance, another plate of pasta, another opportunity to get it right.