Can you be in love with food?
Is it possible to actually feel so enamored with what is made in the kitchen
that it makes you tingly and breathless . . .
Simple stuff like rolled dough and jars of flour . . .
Pretty things like thumb print cookies . . .
Made with almond-butter . . .
And strawberry jam . . .
Ice tea in pitchers and Yerba Mate in tea pots with ginger . . .
Cinnamon-rolls . . .
That I am practicing until I get it just right . . .
I realized I can't stop in the kitchen.
Dinner every night can be a burden and certainly not magical,
yet on a whole I find food compelling . . .
I probably don't eat half of what I make. It is not, in fact, about the eating . . .
Although I do a whole lot of that too . . .
It is about the preparation,
the tasting . . .
the adjusting . . .
It is about the colors and the compilation.
The completion . . .
All that makes me in love. I don't know what else to call it.