Tuesday, May 24, 2016

But I Have Found My Treasure in Your Soul

As I sat looking over the dirty Gowanus on my way home from work waiting for the subway on a cloudy, gloomy day I thought, man I'm really hungry.  The kind of hungry that you start to fantasize about the kind of plate that is going to make this alright.  The kind of dish that will make you forget that empty pain in the bottom of your gut.
I didn't want fast food that was going to make me feel gross afterwards either. I was thinking something light but colorful and festive.  The bleak atmosphere was clouding my brain. It's hard to think straight when your body is screaming at you.  I thought about my mom's garden from a million years ago back in Fort Wayne.  How it was filled with flowers and herbs, rhubarb, mulberry and apple trees, raspberries, peppers and tomatoes. When I felt hollow I could always find something there to eat, rinse it off with the hose and use my hands as plates.   Mom's garden was a reflection of her, what she was inside.
I feel that way about what I put on a plate.  I think about it.  It's customized for that day, to suit the situation.  Considerate cooking so to speak.  I wanted a big serving that was going to burst all the grey out of the room.   I found some nitrate free mango sausage and roasted it with cubes of grape tomatoes, mushrooms, red onion, zucchini and green bell peppers.  I laid it on a bed of Parmesan quinoa and blanketed it with fresh apple and tomatillo salsa.
Making a really good meal might not change my world but it sure does help to ease the pain of it.

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