A Home Cook's Journal of Tastes & Morsels
How to try and mend a heart. Take a road trip. See new faces. Relocate, as many times as you have to. Read. Don’t read. Lose concentration. Let someone think whatever they want without trying to resolve it. Let that ruin other opinions because it wasn’t your poison, anyway. Practice yoga. Stop practicing yoga. Practice…
Pre-Post Script: It is most likely that, if you are reading this, the following is not about you. Staying honest, I had never heard of Bill Smith until his name showed up before the words, “atlantic,” “beach,” and -the real eye-catcher- “pie,” under my thumb. Wasting time on social media. It starts with an ampersand,…
Memories of other things. Spreadable. Applicable. A friend says, It is what it was. Breath on windows. Chilly nights, the telephone. Pointer fingers. Secret messages spelled in fog. I am a prism and you are climbing a tree. Sacred space with only goodness because it is time. A little pinch of warmth. Sweet cardamom freckles…
On the second level of the Minneapolis Institute of Arts, there are six eyes at the end of a long walkway. They surround the name, “Guillermo del Toro.” Through the entrance are pieces (big / small, spooky / scary, wonky / familiar) that encapsulate things that I have feared. Monsters, ghosts, abnormality, uncertainty. Things we…
This cake was supposed to have tahini in it. Tahini, rosewater, cardamom, and blueberries. Sounds like the makings of an intriguing type of halva. Doesn’t it. I had it all. Softened butter. Yolks separated from whites. Ground cardamom. Rosewater. Thick, fatty, smooth tahini, and a cup for measuring. When it came time to include that…
Once upon a time, two people lived across the street from one another for decades. Back then, she was wild-haired and eccentric–blushing her cheeks with lipstick at the window, counting the birds feeding at the end of the drive. She was known to succumb to her own worries and whims, but he was safe–a gentle…
The last few weeks, I have been asking people to tell me what their favorite Christmas songs are. It can be kind of interesting to hear about, actually. Whether or not I ever tell those I’ve interrogated, I am always, always categorizing their responses. I find the people I get along with best respond with…
