Thursday, September 20, 2007

mint and pine nuts

The other day a friend remarked in jest, on the subject of my blog(s): "Everything you write is about food!" I took a look back, through my own online chronicle and the one on which I share with a certain boy. She was right. I do write a lot about food. Not to mention think and talk about it. Many of my conversations with my mothers lately have included something along the lines of "hey, I made this amazing..." or "we had such and such for dinner." When it comes to subjects, of writing or of conversation, food is one of the most forgiving.

I began to think that I was probably predestined to like chopping, mixing and stirring, given my maternal history. But however accurate that explanation, it still seemed too one-dimensional. I have come to love food--its acquisition, combination, preparation and consumption--for many reasons, some on "my" terms, some on others'. Food is a source of immense joy for me, plain and simple. But it is for my mother to, so now I'm back where I started.

I think what I love so much about cooking is the range of simplicity and complexity it offers. How often in life can you open up a book, follow some directions, and come out with a pleasing, useful result? There is something so satisfying about it when life starts to feel like its not yielding much. Open book, find object of desire, follow steps, and your plate is heaping with a new creation. And even better is when you have almost everything you need for some obscure recipe (Israeli couscous? check. French lentils? got it) and only have to go out and buy two ingredients. Like mint and pine nuts. I wish writing a story was that easy. A pen, a page, some mint and pine nuts.

Maybe it is. Maybe I do already have most of what I need.

The beet is the ancient ancestor of the autumn moon, bearded, buried, all but fossilized; the dark green sails of the grounded moon-boat stitched with veins of primordial plasma; the kite string that once connected the moon to the Earth now a muddy whisker drilling desperately for rubies. ~Tom Robbins

(now who can write about food like that?!)


Dave said... can!

deepthoughts said...

i love that description of the beet. i'm going to think of that next time i'm eating one from my mum's garden! mmm. in iran in the autumn these guys would go around the streets with little carts and on them giant beets steaming away, their juice thickening into a delicious syrup. it's hard to describe how good that smell is on a cold day. earthy and warm and comforting....

it seems like you find good ways to keep busy while not working. i should be learning from you rather than the other way round! are you studying at the moment? have you been doing much writing? i actually have loads to do but sometimes i find it difficult when i don't have structure. i'm not very good at implementing it myself, although my mum is amazing that way. she's been scheduling her time incredibly well for years. you'd think i would learn from her, but instead i just moan about it on my blog!

deepthoughts said...

p.s. i am awaiting a delicious blog post from you on the subject of food or anything else for that matter!