“Creativity,” I say as I carefully tear the meat from the country-style ribs we pulled out of the Instant Pot and let cool.

“What?” he says, chopping green garlic and kale.

“That’s the theme this month in Grown Up Gap Year. Creativity. But creative how?” I wonder. I taste some of the rib meat.

“Oh my goodness. You have to try this.”

I take a small piece and pop it into Joe’s open mouth.

We exchange a wide-eyed, giddy glance. We’re very impressed with ourselves.

We’d winged it when we added the ingredients in the Instant Pot. We started with country-style pork ribs from our CSA share. Joe seared them in the Instant Pot and added fresh garlic and ginger. I came into the kitchen and started throwing in other things. Sesame oil, liquid aminos (a gluten-free alternative to soy sauce), and fish sauce.

Fifteen minutes and a quick-release later, we had these surprisingly glorious flavors in our mouths.

Fun fact: Country-style ribs aren’t ribs at all — they’re cut from the shoulder area. Which explains why, as we stand here marveling at our culinary genius, we’re reminded more of carnitas than barbecue.

“Here’s the thing. I’m a creative person, yes, but the problem is, I want to do all the creative things,” I say as I continue to debone and defat-glob the meat. “I mean, I looked up online macrame classes this afternoon, for crying out loud.”

He’s not interested in this topic. I can tell he’s only half listening to me because we’ve been together nearly 18 years, and one of the signs that he’s not listening to me is that when I mention wanting to basically nail a branch to a wall and tie decorative knots into rope hanging from said branch, he has absolutely zero reaction. Chopping kale isn’t that interesting, buddy.

I sigh and relegate the conversation to the inside of my head.

I know I want to do something with my hands. Macrame is too overwhelming. Most of my ideas are too overwhelming, actually, which is my biggest problem. So what else, then? Painting? Pottery? Puzzles?

PEAS!

We must add peas to this winging-it stir fry. Give me any excuse to eat peas, and I will gladly oblige. They’re my favorite vegetable-actually-legume. I grab the bag of peas from the freezer and throw them on the counter.

It’s time to start assembling the stir-fry. Joe’s already taken care of scrambling the eggs, and I decide that the order of wok-erations will be: green garlic, kale, peas, rice, eggs, pork. We reserved the cooking juices from the Instant Pot, and will be using that as a sorta-sauce base.

Hmm … creativity. I’ve been really into reading lately, fueled by frequent visits to the library to volunteer. I call it “being with my books.” But I don’t know if that qualifies as creative. Sure, it’s peaceful and meditative, and I’m sort of “creating” more organized shelves, but…

Ooh, chili oil!

I bought this Sichuan chili oil from Milk Street a while back, and feel very fancy when I use it. It adds a nice low rumble of heat to a dish. I pull it from the cabinet and set it beside the stove. I’ll drizzle it in toward the end of the process.

I sneak another piece of the pork and continue pondering. Another issue with this whole creativity thing: I don’t have a lot of space to work with. We live in less than 1,000 square feet, so it’s not like I can set up a studio area, or spread out a bunch of supplies onto a tabletop. We utilize every scrap of space we have, and that space becomes easily cluttered if things aren’t put away just so. I glance up at my kitchen cabinets, which double as a very messy pantry that I’ve been meaning to organize.

Oh! I have hoisin sauce! In the space where the rice and grains should be, but like I said, this pantry is a hot mess!

Hoisin sauce is on the counter, next to the chili oil. The green garlic, kale, and peas are sizzling away in the wok.

I had no idea this was going to be such a green stir fry.

No matter. I grab the rice and throw it in, followed by the eggs. I put the spatula down and double-fist handfuls of pork, upon which I exclaim, “God, I LOVE COOKING.”

I am so happy. Utterly joyful, right in this very moment. My heart swells with porky pleasure.

I’m cooking, throwing things together, my confidence blossoming as I spontaneously decide what flavors and textures will go well together…

Oh my God.

I’m being creative.

Right now.

Oh, this is so me. Stressing so much about how to be creative that I nearly miss that I’m already doing it.

I drizzle the chili oil onto the mixture, bright orange against all that green, and toss it with my spatula. I smile to myself, shaking my head at how “me” I was just being, and add in the hoisin sauce — at the very end, when I’ve turned off the burner, so it doesn’t caramelize and stick to the bottom of the wok.

The stir fry is delicious, by the way. I top it with sesame seeds and eat it with chopsticks — partially to be authentic, and partially to slow myself down a bit.

As I sit there, eating this food I’ve created from otherwise simple (and a couple of fancy) ingredients, an idea comes to me. A way that I’d like to be creative this month. I’m not going to tell you about it just yet, in case I change my mind. It’s all part of the creative process, after all.

P.S. I’m still interested in learning macrame, if you have any branches to spare.