TW// corruption, abuse, nc, grape
Gr@pe seed oil:
my enchanting but possessive relationship with a cooking oil.
impressing me first with their ability to deliver an immaculate sear on my vegetables & meat dishes. effortlessly did my cast iron lick thin sliced paneer into beautifully charred squares as it’s slick neutrally present embrace danced with the cheese in the radiating hot pan. enamored by flavor and versatility now realized possible in my meals, it became all I wanted all too soon. every time I cooked. it. needed. to be. incorporated. forcing my hand in a way that felt feverishly out of my control
I knew it had some way of always winning me over and I hated that i felt this way. After I tried to confront it, by the time I closed the pantry door I was nearly convinced I was the issue, that I loved the way my onions caramelized in seconds, that no other oil could stand the high heat required to braise a sumptuous medium rare ribeye without burning and creating a uncomfortable smog that ruins an otherwise sensual evening.
how could I retort such a strong argument, how I could I possibly dump it down the sink and go back to my life before? using that pathetic box fan, pulling the smoky air from the stove to the window each time I wanted to make something as simple as an omelette. It was then I let them in, taking over my life. against my better judgment I said “I love you rapeseed oil, I want to believe that you’re not like the alternatives” that was the poor choice of dialogue that only volunteered me for a path of abuse, manipulation, and non consent soon to come.
not long after, it was the only cooking oil residing in the pantry. rapeseed had me convinced enough that the others were unnecessary and expiring due to my perceived refusal to cook with any other non stick ingredient. rapeseed had me throw it out. so long peanut, never used the sesame anyway, coconut always made Everything taste like itself, the pleasing fragrance of olive has never been worth the amount of smoke and trouble it creates after a meek 300°f. To the day I retain that any hardboiled hellspawn demon would have shivered in cold fear at the expression of intense delight accompanied by total domination created by rapeseed as I tossed the yellow and red can of PAM into the garbage chute. It knew by then it had complete ownership of me.
months had gone by and I was a total slave to the stove top, I just kept pouring and pouring, obediently accepting the oils control, my dinner preferences became corrupted & had gone all out of control by this point. it was no longer the juicy thighs and sautéed mushrooms, they forced me way beyond my field of expertise. Multiple failed attempts to reproduce creamy risotto or rack of lamb recipes, even if I was burning what I was cooking I just didn’t care, rapeseed had a way about it of making me feel comfortable and safe, it had to end. I confronted it yet again. begging them to leave my life. as this plant based fat turned away from my apt door in appalled anger it felt it must inflict their final blows to my ego revealing its truly sinister intentions and character all along. Ranting some curse about how i will “just burn everything” in absence
how I’ll be “gaining unexpected weight due to the higher value of trans fats in lard and shortening” as much as it hurt like throwing knives to hear momentarily, I HAD to purge my life from a substance of such toxicity. I’ve come to realize the value of the decision I made to rid that oil from my palette and love myself better. and after many months of reshaping and healing I’ve finally felt inspired and strong enough to share my experience with others. Only the best intentions and hopes to extend a helping hand with other amateur cooks who have shared or are currently struggling w an experience similar to mine.
