All posts filed under: a sensuous sigh

chocolate & olive oil & salt, oh my

awaiting moderation

Well, it has been quite some time since my last confession.  There is this little project, which now that spring has sprung is really heating up the family to-do list. It’s spring everywhere, of course, so there are the winter clothes to be dealt with, and the pruning of the blackberries so that, come summer (and come it will!  I hear it gaining on us now!) a pint of blood need not be exchanged for each quart of berries. There are the sheep to be shorn. And then a good amount of wool to be handled. Spring is full up with cleaning and weeding and pruning and sorting. And then there is grief.  Grief is its own season. All in all, there has not been a whole lot of intentional cooking going on.  Survival cooking has more been the theme.  I have been wondering if maybe I forgot how to cook, or how to enjoy it anyway.  I have certainly been a bit dull in the tastebuds. But then, suddenly, there was this chocolate bar, …

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meyer lemon caramel

the use of today

Been a bit quiet around here!  My apologies.  It isn’t exactly as though I haven’t been making useful food.  I am back in a period of jam-packed days and short trips away from my family, so I have been cranking out useful food galore, like pots of beans (this time with some sofrito which I found waiting like buried treasure in the deep recesses of the freezer) and big stews and little bowls of hardboiled eggs which are keeping us fed, to a degree, but are not particularly photogenic or terribly inspiring items to write about. Sometimes, if it’s terrible inspiration one seeks, one has to look a little ways beyond useful nutrition.  I was nudged out of my kitchen doldrums today by the gift of some tired lemons; maybe it was our compatible states of not-dewy-freshness that moved me.  What happened is that my friend René caught me fondling some of the Meyer lemons on her counter while she was making me some tea.  I thought her back was turned, it’s true, but I …

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souffle baked

a moving account

We’ve been doing some serious sorting around the house, long overdue.  I am not speaking figuratively of this sort of startling renovation of the Raisin; I mean going through closets and drawers and the boxes of papers and drawings and photos that have accumulated.  Most of the paper correspondence in these boxes is vintage material.  After the advent of email, the volume of letters from far-flung pals was sharply reduced.  Gone are the days of the little thrill when you recognized (or didn’t) the handwriting on the outside of the envelope, the rustly feel of airmail paper, the interesting stamps. It’s kind of hard to recall a time before email, but in one of my boxes, I hit a vein of slippery, thermal-paper faxes, and I remembered that when two of my closest friends moved overseas, we began faxing letters back and forth.  Typing these letters made them much easier to read, and one of these friends, when she received the first one, said—well, it’s nice to get the letter so fast, but it’s kind …

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