The New Trophies of Domesticity
Early last fall, I decided I wanted to become a person who makes soup. I didn’t have a specific recipe in mind, but the idea seemed inexpensive, delicious, and seasonally appropriate. Making soup from scratch would be the perfect Sunday project, I told myself. At 32, I also felt ready to be a person who has Sunday projects.
But my desires did not end at soup. In my new endeavor, I had finally conjured an excuse to buy myself a colorful, enamel-covered Dutch oven. The stew pot I chose was just like those I had seen in the gorgeous Instagram photos of young, highly influential chefs such as Alison Roman and Molly Yeh. Similar ones had started to appear on the back burners of my friends’ stoves. My dream Dutch oven would cost more than $300. Not cheap, but this was for my future as a soup person, after all.
My excitement at trying a new hobby was somewhat tempered by the vague indignity of admitting that I, too, am part of a group to which luxurious lifestyle products can be predictably sold. Like many Americans in their 20s and 30s, I grew up in a household where cooking was a fact of life instead of a weekend relaxation technique.
