A Home Cook's Journal of Tastes & Morsels
There is nothing quite like the steam above a saucepan. A reminder, something is brewing. Think: an appropriate response to the warmth, with nothing expecting anything Other. (Occurring) naturally to things in a pot, heating. [This is all you have to do.] Vegetables in quarters and thirds, beneath sage leaves and sprigs of thyme. Rinds…
I thought about calling this “I’m Going To Grad School” Tres Leches. It’s exciting, I guess. I had reached a point where I would rather receive the rejection letter than wonder what else my life could look like. I applied to one place I knew I would get in. And then, I applied to the…
blessing the boats may the tide that is entering even now the lip of our understanding carry you out beyond the face of fear may you kiss the wind then turn from it certain that it will love your back may you open your eyes to water water waving forever and may you in your…
Something is bubbling, somewhere. Hot steam above purple water. Making fuchsia goop. It melts into chocolate, which turns to batter. Then, it’s cake. Somewhere, -between beets and a creme fraiche cloak- it becomes. bakerbakingbeet cakebeetscakechocolatedeliciousdessertfoodfoodieMinneapolisreciperoot vegetablessnack cakesweetsvegetarianyum
notes on nostalgia: longing for the flavor of Past (becoming that for a moment) round table against a wooden wall + birds chirping at the feed across the way -lively chatter before snack time- and so, it exists [in the present] experience frames set to the color: w i s t f u l pretzels…
if what you want and need is pure and good, do not hear the ones who say you should not have it. already, there are so many expectations placed, and happiness cannot be contingent on certain criteria determined by those without your greatest good in mind. no one else decides your capacity for fulfillment. (or…
I forgot I made tea. I lost track of it. (I dried all of the ingredients) –lemon, mint, rose– and it sat on the counter, unnoticed. For months. Between rolls of the dice, I turned and recalled, “I’ve made my own tea before, you know.” [splatter of numbers on the table] + he claps long-thumbed…
