Simmer Your Problems Away with Kitchen Therapy

"Here it's not Top Chef—it's 'Stop, Chef!'" proclaims Emmanuelle Turquet with a smile. It's just past 8 PM and this calm, thirtysomething woman explains her approach to the participants in her living room, who are here attending her workshop entitled "Creative Tastebuds." Muriel* is in her fifties; Hélène, in her forties, is with her mother Clarisse. They're not here for drinks, but to discover kitchen therapy—a new way to understand cooking, wherein culinary performance and the final result are set aside in the service of creativity and personal growth.

A few days prior, Emmanuelle was telling us how she got the idea nearly three years ago, after quitting her job at GDF Suez. "I was inspired by art therapy, where pottery or painting is used to express your emotions and to better know yourself. Not only does the mind focus on a relaxing activity, but on top of that, there is no obligation to produce an actual result—it's pure, unbridled creativity. I wanted to find this in the world of cooking, where strict rules usually abound, whether it's in a recipe or a TV show. It already existed in hospitals and retirement homes, but I wanted to offer it to individual and corporate clients." Before getting started with her evening "patients," she sets just two guidelines: "Be kind and non-judgmental to start, and later, keep everything confidential."

Following her decision to take on this adventure, Emmanuelle attended trainings in art therapy, personal development, and cuisine. Her three-hour workshops cost 90 euros and are a subtle marriage of these three elements. The evening incorporates moments of relaxation, sensory games, and two cooking sessions followed by a discussion and tasting.

The first game is about presenting yourself, expressing your current mood by choosing a Polaroid, and explaining your relationship to cooking. Tonight, our options are composed of a series of skies, some clearer than others. Emmanuelle starts the process, and Muriel cuts in. She opts for a cloudy sky: "I haven't been sleeping well because I am stressed at the moment. The shootings haven't made things any better." Hélène's sky is almost clear; her only regret "is to not really take the time to make food." Clarisse grabs a blue sky peppered with clouds: "Looks like Normandy—where I'm from," she remarks, before adding that her cooking is "too often completed in a hurry." All three of them share a desire to get some perspective on the daily grind, the hustle and bustle of everyday life—and these few hours have come just in time. As the workshop progresses, one by one, they kick off their shoes.

Fittingly, what follows is a relaxation activity. With sounds of the forest in the background, Emmanuelle invites participants to stand in the living room with their eyes closed. With a calming, gentle voice, she recites what seems like a meditation session. "Imagine you are a tree. You can feel your roots anchored in the soil, and the sap rises slowly from your roots to your branches." After a few minutes of reconnecting with one's body, it's time for a "fully conscious tasting," meaning that "all five senses are mobilized, rather than over-utilizing a single one to the detriment of the others," explains Emmanuelle. On the small table lies a basket with four varieties of apple. Each person is invited to select one and touch it, smell it, weigh it, or tap it to get a sense of its density, before biting into it. The apples are passed around. Hélène loves the exercise: "Never before had I paid attention to the different skin textures."

Before heading to the kitchen, Emmanuelle explains how things will go. Everyone is given one ingredient and a mini-theme. After that, it's 20 to 30 minutes of complete freedom. The theme of the night is "the hard-headed mushroom." Muriel hates mushrooms but gives it a go nonetheless, reassured by the additional options offered by the contents of the fridge, which quickly start spreading across the bar.

Flavored mustards, honey, and other fresh ingredients are added to the spread of fruits, vegetables, and herbs. Under the bar sits a glorious collection of oils—ample enough to compete with any restaurant. Each cook gets an apron, a cutting board and knife. One by one, they go to market, opening and smelling jars, coming and going with ingredients in tow. Standing a few steps back, Emmanuelle jots notes down in a small notebook. After about 20 minutes, the dishes are laid out on the dining room table. Emmanuelle takes photos, and each participant is asked to describe their dish and its link to the overall theme.

All three have used the head of the mushroom, playing off the thematic title of the exercise. Hélène made amuse-bouches: mushroom slices topped with Roquefort and apple, and a bit of mimolette. "Can you tell I like apéritifs?" she asks laughing.

As for her mother, her mushrooms have been spooned out and filled with olives and tomatoes. She then covered everything with a coriander leaf or a mushroom stem. "I kind of went the cocktail sandwich route," she smiles. Looking at the other dishes, she adds that she "could have done a bit more; it's rather basic." Muriel has the most elaborate dish. The head of the mushroom is hollowed out and stuffed with "a mixture that I tried without thinking too much, with Cabécou cheese, ham, and garlic." One half of a cherry tomato and small slices of leek garnish the ensemble.

The dishes reveal each participant's culinary habits. Today, the debriefing remains light, which is not always the case. Profound realizations often come out of Emmanuelle's workshops—she remembers, for example, a "parallel drawn by a participant between the difficulty of constructing a sphere with different varieties of prunes, and that of forming a couple." After everyone's explanations, Emmanuelle suggests a tasting. Comments are exchanged, with participants trying to guess the ingredients in Muriel's stuffing or Hélène's amuse-bouches.

Back in the kitchen, mushrooms are again on the menu, but with a new theme: "your current mood." Hélène quickly gets started on a salad, while Clarisse and Muriel seem stumped by this theme. Muriel ends up preparing mini savory cakes. Clarisse is probably the one who has struggled the most since the beginning of the session, and this sudden demand for introspection destabilizes her. She eventually fires up the stove, caramelizing apples in butter.

Back at the table, Emmanuelle displays a sign with a series of questions to guide the evening's final debriefing. "What did you feel during today's session? What have you gotten out of it?" She hands out small notebooks for participants to draft answers. In the end, everyone has more or less grasped the gist of the equation, though Hélène is the only one who followed the "current mood" assignment, as though this additional constraint was simply too much for the others. (Hélène was tired, and hence made a salad, which, in French, is said to "tire" itself.) Emmanuelle doesn't even make note of this. "It's symbolic. The original assignment is besides the point, and is simply a way to realize that you are capable of improvising," she points out, after the fact.

Hélène is thrilled; she feels "relaxed." "It's inspired me to have more confidence in myself. It showed me that it's possible to concoct something good with whatever you have in the fridge, without a recipe, and without spending hours on it." Though she appreciated the relaxing ambience in Emmanuelle's world of cooking, Clarisse is disappointed in her dishes: "I feel like I need to spend more time in the kitchen." Muriel also regrets not having done more. "I didn't step out of my comfort zone. There isn't much alchemy in my small cakes. That said, I had a wonderful time, letting loose with people I didn't know at all." Emmanuelle hears everyone out, careful not to interrupt as she writes down their final impressions. She steps in occasionally to help participants along as they formulate their thoughts.

It's past 11 PM. After opening up to strangers, reconnecting with one's body, senses, and creativity, and making note of one's current emotional state, the time has come to step back into the real world. Hélène wouldn't mind delaying the process. "I'm tempted to go directly to sleep," she says, with a full belly and a lighter spirit.

*This name has been modified at the subject's request.