Thursday, March 22, 2012

I think I'm in love with food . . .

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 become part of late brunch . . .
Raw coconut cake . . .
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 concocting,  
the smelling, 
the feeling, 
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.


                       ~ Marica

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