Can't Cook, Won't Cook

I was on the Metro this morning (not the free newspaper, but rather Tyne and Wear's light transport solution), and I was listening in to a conversation being had between two of my fellow passengers. The man was talking about how much he loves cooking and that he sees it as an art. He was saying that he loves creating beautiful dishes and experimenting with tastes and textures. That all sounds very nice, but I can't reconcile myself with the ephemeral nature of it. It seems like painting a beautiful portrait, admiring it for 20 mins or so and then ripping it up. It just doesn't make sense to me.