chemistry and magic

once, somewhere in nyc

cooking is one of my passions. it’s a part of every day and a part of how i challenge myself to create. trust me, i love dining out and ordering takeout, but i love cooking a little more. there’s a tattered book on my shelf that has been hand written in over the years that holds recipes from family members and old favorites from here and there. these days i hardly need to open it to produce a cheesy rue, a near perfect quiche, fresh tomato sauce, or Austine’s vegetable soup. my neighbor’s chickens supply me with eggs and on either side of my island are two farmers Ben to the south and Amanda to the north, and they grow just about everything we need for nourishment. here on my little corner we grow raspberries, pears, asparagus, garlic, and more depending on what calls us.

this week, in my pantry, i have little golden potatoes, acorn squashes, macintosh apples, onions, carrots, garlic, mushrooms, tomatoes, fresh eggs, Vermont butter and cheese. the possibilities for making magic are endless it seems. later today i will mince some garlic and dice a sweet onion and sauté them in a little organic olive oil until they are soft and golden brown; i’m going to add those little grape tomatoes and stir them around and let them get warm and plumpen up. and right when they get bright and full of steam I’m going to gently press them open with a fork and let the moisture and aroma out so it slowly makes a sauce. i’m going to add some salt, pepper, and basil and let that simmer to perfection. cooking from scratch takes time and requires patience. but it gives back ten-fold. the house will smell delicious and the sauce will taste wonderful served over pasta with warm bread and butter to capture what sticks in our bowls.

it’s friday night- i think i’ll pour a little glass of red wine beside that and sit back in my chair and and feel at peace and allow myself to be filled with gratitude for all the vision, labor, love and magic that went into the meal and especially for the time i was able to spend creating something with my own two hands.

For food that stays our hunger,
For rest that brings us ease,
For homes where memories linger,
We give our thanks for these.

peace, dear reader. peace.

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