I used to clock long days in offices where time was currency. Every email urgent. Seven approval rounds. Need it yesterday. No mistakes. Now I make pasta.
The kitchen is busy. The bell dinging, line cooks flying past for more arugula, tables flipped on a timer. But the second my hands touch semolina, my mind goes quiet. I’m still when I shape ravioli.
Pasta teaches you to move with intention, not urgency.To do less, but better.To give your full attention, because attention is the real currency.
Your mind needs stillness. Boredom. That’s when the good stuff comes through.
Slowness isn’t about doing everything at a snail’s pace. It’s about doing things at the right speed. Savoring the hours and minutes rather than just counting them.
-Carl Honoré, In Praise of Slow
Fast food was built for convenience. Fast living is about chasing the next thing. Comparing. Hustling. Rushing thru what actually matters. Rushing usually ruins things.
Mistakes are part of the recipe
One time I tried to bang out gnocchi for forty people in under an hour. I didn’t cool the potatoes. Cracked in eggs too hot. Ended up with a ball of mess. Garbage.
I started over at half speed. Double the care. This batch floated like clouds.
That day, I learned patience pays off. Same with letting dough sit. Same with sauce that takes its time. That’s all time working for you, not against you.
Challenging the cult of speed
Turns out, slowing down in the kitchen showed me how to slow down everywhere else. It taught me that valuing your time is the value.
What started as cooking with intention turned into being with intention.
I wrote about all of this for The Main if you have time.
Em
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