A Home Cook's Journal of Tastes & Morsels
It isn’t that everything is simple; it’s just that sometimes things are much simpler than we anticipate. Allow me to point out the obvious and state: I have made a lot of poppyseed things lately. You’re welcome. I picked a date on a calendar. I set up my phone to e-mail and text a reminder:…
My dad would have been 69 today. Who knows if he would have made it this far? There is always something. You know, you start to watch the way the light hits things differently over the course of a period of time. That might be the most prominent thing in my experience of this blog.…
I wrote something about my grandmother when I was a kid, about how one day I would be older and I wouldn’t be able to talk to her, maybe. I wrote it in the third person. She read it back then, and she pointed out to me that she knew it was for her. I…
I made cookies and then I smooshed ’em and I swirled ’em into ice cream. I dolloped that with sweetened condensed milk frosting, topped with more of ’em, crushed. I suppose that isn’t all I learned to do over the course of this most recent revolution around the sun. What a life. Oats and peanut…
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…
Matcha, matcha, matcha. Somewhere, in the space between primary colors. Honeyed hot water and ground green tea whisked with bamboo. Wrists flicking, we move with an M or a W. Crackles as the warm liquid pours over. A lid, and another lid. Shake. Green speckles on white. A storyline, splashed here and there. Unplanned polka…
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,…
