I just made it up. I say that a lot when I’m cooking. When I cook (if I dare call it that) I often don’t know what I’m doing or have any set plan. I tend to make split second decisions when I come to crucial points in the cooking process, whether it involves ingredients or next steps in the process. Sometimes this is good. Sometimes bad.
I hate to call this making it up. Making it up, to me, should involve some thought or intention. Like a real chef might think “Oh, I wonder if ginger, cardamom and chicken bouillabaisse will go good together” or something like that and hope to concoct something delicious.
Whereas, I’m just being lazy. Slapping it together. Not that one can’t gain some skill in the art of slapdashery, but it’s just not the same.
In making something up you have visions of greatness. In slapdashery you just have hopes of averted failure. You hand too much control over to your fickle friend Luck.
I will say that in other endeavors I am much better at making it up, much better at having intentions and visions. Though there are times when I’m lazy and convince myself that my slapdashery contains some intention. And sometimes it’s hard to tell the results apart because slapdashery sometimes excels. But deep down inside I know, oh I know.