Liebe geht durch den Magen

Who knows me, knows that I love to cook. I don't get tired of cooking, even if it's on a daily basis. But it has to be a creative process. Don't ask me to just fry a burger. (Yes, I admit, I've got to daughters who fancy burgers and fries from time to time, as most any kid does, so sometimes I have to do it.) Even if you are in a hurry and you've only got a few minutes to prepare a meal, you might just cook some ready-made tortellini, or you might cook those tortellini, fry some thin slices of garlic in a little olive oil, pour it over the pasta with some fine herbs, make a lettuce-tomato-mozzarella-rocket-salad with oregano, olive oil and aceto balsamico, open a bottle of nice red wine, and in the wink of an eye you've turned fast food into a fabulous italian meal.
What fascinates me most about cooking is how over the centuries human creativity has produced so many different dishes with only a limited number of possible ingredients, making each into a cultural expression of a region or a people. Many dishes were invented out of necessity, because some ingredient wasn't available or couldn't be used for some reason, and people were forced to improvise. And then there are all those different tastes and spices in the world and the almost endless possibilities of combining them.
If we look at what is called the mediterranean kitchen, for example, we notice that the ingredients used are practically the same all around the mediterranean sea and still dishes are so unique in each country.
The other day my wife suggested, looking at what was left in the fridge, for me to cook some spaghetti bolonese, but as it turned out there was to little beef and to little tomatoes.
After a little consideration and after consulting some recipes, I decided to do an arabic/moroccan dish: olive oil, onions and garlic (this is the cornerstone) , the beef cut into little pieces, the hashed tomatoes, chickpeas and zucchini, and, what really makes the difference: harissa, coriander, cumin and a little bit of cinnamon; Instead of the pasta I prepared some couscous. Not even my daughter Rita, who is quite picky about food, remembered to complain.…
With the same ingredients, varying only slightly the cooking procedures and the spices used, it could have become an italian, french, turkish or middle eastern dish. Cultural diversity is something fascinating. I propose: Achieve World peace through exchanging recipes!