Taste Your Harvest I love kitchen life in my hands; stirring apple butter as it comes to the boil; lifting sterilized jars out of the canner. How more fruit stares me down from a work bowl across the table, waiting their turn as apple rings in the dehydrator; how the low grey clouds shelter the day. These things.
Kitchen Angels Somehow, I understood how this passing garden, was chronicled forever in my heaven. Kitchen Angels glimpsed through our senses. Although, it’s at the edges of sense where they’re sharpest. When I was twenty, I lived at The Yogurt Farm, not a working farm, but instead a property that students rented. There was a large farmhouse with a garden, and a meadow with trails that led off to yurts along the forest edge. I lived in one of the yurts, with my toddler son, without heat or water, so we shared the kitchen and bathroom with the farmhouse.
Recipe as MusicIf I chop onions and caramelize them down to sweetness without tears;
add cherry tomatoes from the garden, perhaps feta cheese, roasted garlic and lemon juice... improvising, like hands on a keyboard, following my intuition to lunch. Perhaps it’ll be delicious, but soon forgotten. That’s why cooking isn’t recipe writing. Recipes aren’t the performance. Instead, they’re the ability to take life in motion, or imagine life at its best and then translate it into culinary language. A recipe, like written scores cooks play the world over, again and again. |
AuthorSidonie Maroon is a Recipe Developer, Food Writer, Chef and Culinary Educator.She also blogs at her recipe site: abluedotkitchen.com and for the Port Townsend Food Coop Archives
October 2019
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