“There is a communion of more than our bodies when bread is broken and wine is drunk.” -MFK Fisher
I don’t keep photo albums. Somewhere in my dresser drawer, I have horded a couple dozen journals with only the first 10 pages filled. Instead, my life is measured out bite by bite. I remember nearly every great and horrible meal I’ve ever eaten, and then all the rest comes flooding back. The first time I tasted Thai Curry was also the first date I had with my current life partner-in-dine. I remember the skinny cheese fries from Tasty Dog on a weekday night with my family after jazz dance classes. Huge family arguments over Eggplant Parmesan washed down with watered down frozen lemonade. Picking golden delicious apples or rhubarb in our backyard, and turning it into pie.
I find food, it’s cultivation and politics an inexhaustible subject, and I see so much potential in the fact of it. Food is as necessary as it is a luxury, and kitchens are so often the art studios of the working parent.
I spend most of my days trying to avoid eating out every single meal. Until I traveled to Italy a couple of years ago, I thought I could eat Asian food for breakfast, lunch and dinner every day for the rest of my life. One dream in life is to create a sushi roll named after myself. I already have one, but it’s recognized only by two restaurants in Asheville. I want it on the permanent menu of all sushi restaurants everywhere. Breakfast is of no use to me. I believe it should be removed. Breakfast for dinner is one of the worst ideas ever conceived.
My cooking vasillates between Asian fare or 1950’s midwestern comfort food- ie. anything based on frozen peas. I don’t bake anything except pies. I don’t save money for any purpose other than expensive dinners. Supper is the superior meal of the day. Breyer’s makes the best coffee ice cream on the market. White chocolate is an abomination and must be put out of its misery. European, Mexican, East-Asian, and Canadian candy bars are all superior to American candy bars. My favorite wine is vino verde (slightly bubbly, dry, tart). I love to enjoy a vast variety of flavors, but sometimes I become emotionally attached to one food, usually because it played a significant role during some point in my life. Pumpkin frozen yogurt from TCBY is such a dish (beware! They don’t make it like they use to). Pasta Carbonara is another. I generally dislike all generic American staples such as: pancakes, pizza, hamburgers, and chocolate chip cookies. I order the special with special additional personal features. I add and remove ingredients to create “the perfect meal” at every restaurant I frequent. I believe in personally thanking the chef after a great meal. I wish I said grace or had a moment of silence before eating, but I forget nearly every time.