A Home Cook's Journal of Tastes & Morsels
Pretend you identify as female and you own a romper with underwires. They poke and prod. They do not bend. Your move. There is a place in the fabric where you can see a little bud. Do you leave it? Do you tug. And when you tug, don’t you feel better. Nothing gets to state…
Don’t you believe in magic. Chubby fingers, a craving met in the cupboard from a cardboard box with singular packages of marshmallow-sandwiching oatmeal cookies. A voice. A statement. Always. Who decides what is / what is not enough. When do we engage restraint. Why don’t we sometimes. Is there a reason we feel entitled to…
Can we ever really just walk into a room, or? I think that we forget sometimes to be receptive. I wonder what it must be like to arrive someplace and observe what arises. And sit with it. Instead, we greet it with all the things we carried along. No wonder things blow up in our…
Some people are gifted with graciousness. Some are wise. Some are genius at math or science or writing or cooking. And some people make Rice Krispie Treats. Let me tell you: there are a lot of things in the world that I do not know, but I know that I am one of the latter.…
As I mentioned last week, this post is all about story time. When I created this website, I had to explain to a few people that I would only review dining experiences I liked, and that I would not be critiquing restaurants. Obviously, not every menu is perfect; if this is the case, then I…
