Monthly Archives: February 2009
spice it up
- image courtesy of spices brokerage
when it comes to food, my taste buds are not finicky. i will try anything once – if for no other reason than sheer curiosity, and i rarely encounter flavors i can’t tolerate. i certainly have my favorites, but even those seasonings i don’t prefer are interesting to me for the variety, discovery, and experience.
much to my dismay, my husband’s taste in food is not nearly as adventurous as mine. much to his annoyance, i insist on labeling him “vanilla.” i suppose he represents the people of the world who want to know what to expect, and want to expect to like what’s on their plate – but i can’t relate. lee is of the “why would i ever want to risk not enjoying my meal when i am certain that i will be happy with what i know i love?” mindset; i tend more toward the “but what if the flavor i love the most i haven’t even tried yet?” mentality. this was amusing while we dated, but is slightly more challenging in marriage. cooking dinner is quite impossible without a compromise or dual preparation.
i like to cook for many of the same reasons that i find joy in my other passions – i get to create, i get to forge into the unknown, i get to learn, and of course, the vast array of options! readily accessible in my kitchen is virtually every culinary herb and spice i can get my hands on – fresh and dried. and although none of the tins are labeled, they are each used frequently enough that i can instantly identify each one. but if i dare add even a pinch of exciting seasoning to one of lee’s favorite dishes, it is automatically not as good simply because “it’s not the same.” sigh.
i could lament the plight of being doomed to a lifetime of “same,” but i think our differing approaches to variety is one way that we’re good together. he’s the vanilla to my chunky monkey, the legal pad to my handmade journals, the plain tee to my layered patterns. without each other we might not find balance between planning and spontaneity. he encourages the consistency i often lack and i motivate the movement needed to avoid stagnation. together we can learn to appreciate “there’s no place like home” as well as “boldly go where no man has gone before.” but fixing dinner is still an issue.
made to relate
on monday i had intended to write about my wonderful weekend, which included a perfectly laid-back low-key valentine’s day, and my first real catering job. but tragic news of the loss of a dear family friend has arrested my thoughts and emotions this week. i apologize for the neglect to ~~myOLIO~~, but my response to those emotions poured onto the page made of paper and not the one of bits and bytes. the only cyber-transmissions i could muster were the trivial diversions i collect over at ~OLIOsnippets~, which offered welcome distraction.
we all recognize that tragedy strikes every day. in fact, just last week a tornadic storm took the lives of eight near my hometown. the complexities of how each of us deals with emotional injury and recovery is a testimony to the intricate maze that is human nature. whether there is sorrow, anger, disbelief, or numbness, we lean on faith and each other for comfort, demonstrating how we were created for relationships. we naturally seek intimate interaction in our lives. ironically our relationships cause us much pain when there is loss, but also are the very component that heals the hurt.
i am grateful that life and hope persevere. and that i am blessed (yes, thoroughly blessed) with many relationships that have, do, and will bring me much pain and joy.
LOL – frisbee fiasco
okay, okay, here’s another laugh-out-loud story from The List! almost all of my anecdotes are memories of something i personally witnessed, but this one is an exception. occasionally the retelling of an incident is so hysterical that my visualization is just as funny, if not funnier than, the actual events. the only rule for inclusion on The List is that it must make me laugh again on the second, third, and subsequent recollections. this doozie definitely fit the bill.
my mom had me in stitches (literally gasping for breath) as she relayed the details to me. i am already laughing again thinking about it. it involves my cousin aaron, who is a year older than me and one of my best friends. we were housemates for a few years before i got married, so i’m pretty familiar with his mannerisms. which is probably why i was able to visualize the situation so vividly and found it so funny. (a bit of a disclaimer, there.)
the setting: aaron and his red heeler, rusty, were visiting our titu (lebanese for grandmother) at my parent’s home one weekend. the weather was pleasant, so they were outside with my folk’s dogs, tossing a frisbee around. rusty is quite good at catching and fetching, and mom’s yorkie, beckham, is good at chasing rusty, chasing the frisbee. (if you’ve met my dad’s golden retriever, shadow, you know he is good at laying and watching all the running.)
so aaron was conscientiously aiming the frisbee away from the pond, which was rather low and swamp-like after a dry spell, knowing that rusty would dive right in after it. (he did have to put the dog back in his car for drive home, after all.) i’m sure you can see where this is headed. maybe it was a gust of wind, maybe it was an ill-placed throw, but the disk flew right over the crater where the pond usually sits and dropped out of sight. followed promptly by two panting pets, while a dismayed “nooooooooooo!!!!” echoed across the yard. aaron began moving quickly toward the certain disaster as the pups disappeared over the ledge. mom, observing from the back porch, was puzzled when aaron’s calls did not bring the dogs right back, and watched as he reached the edge of the pond. in an instant, aaron’s demeanor turned from agitation to panic. he spun around and bolted back toward the house, hollering, “get in the house, get in the house, NOW!”
now, my cousin is active, but i don’t think even he would describe himself as athletic. what i’m saying is: he’s been known to run a few miles for a good cause, but i have never seen him sprint. which is why the image of him clipping along at top speed, all while frantically waving and screaming at mom to take cover, is so darn funny to me. mom glanced past aaron to see what had provoked his horror, and saw two entirely mud-blackened pooches racing toward them. aaron, knowing that his inevitable fate would be be a shellac of sludgy pawprints, was desperate to make it to the safe haven indoors before the dogs caught up with him. mom, realizing that the danger was dirt and not death, couldn’t move because she was doubled over with laughter.
i need to stop and compose myself now, because i’m already laughing so hard that i’m having difficulty seeing the computer screen through my scrunched up, welling up eyes. and that’s only part of the story.
later that afternoon, the original hazard avoided and a fresh game of fetch initiated, aaron was wisely throwing the frisbee in the opposite direction so as to ensure no mishaps. the plan seemed to be working as the dogs plunged repeatedly into the brush to recover the frisbee, effectively knocking much of the dried muck from their coats. however, upon one return trip rusty felt an urge he could not ignore, and put his flying saucer down in order to relive himself. again, mom was in a position that blocked her view to the dogs, but not aaron. she heard, “no, don’t poop in your frisbee!!” and then, with the same wild alarm in his eyes, aaron sprang into action and fled toward mom, yelling, “get in the house, get in the house!!” mom was again unable to heed his warning, paralyzed with laughter as rusty closed in on aaron, cheerfully wielding his dripping, crap-covered toy.
oh my goodness, i’m spent.
105degrees
a while back i shared about the culinary classes i am involved in with chef mandy and eluded to our exciting restaurant project. 105degrees cafe, shop, and academy are set to launch this fall in okc! participating in the development of this project has been one of the coolest things i have done – and the doors just keep opening up each step of the way.
securing a spot in a modern new development (designing a space instead of conforming to one!), gathering interest from enthusiastic investors and customers (menu tastings and curriculum building!), and welcoming to the team experienced stars of the industry (matthew kenney is now a partner!) have all been part of the ride.
on sunday we held a seminar that included all the basic courses we will teach in the academy, and matthew flew in to observe and meet with the team. i was going to write all about it, but penny beat me to it: she’s the director of Real Food Tulsa and posted this story on their site. (you’ll see me demonstrating recipes in some of the slideshow photos.) it is as good a summary as i would offer.
also, i know matthew plans to write about his visit on his blog soon. get ready, oklahoma, we’re bringing somethin’ you ain’t nevah seen before!
the thing about writing
you’ll realize soon enough that this post stems from concern with social perception, catering to the opinions of others, and measuring one’s own skills against exceptional examples–all things i try mightily (and most often successfully) to make a non-issue. but alas, those things do play a very real role in stunting the ambitions of so many.
today i’m thinking specifically of artists, of every level & dedication, because of an article i read yesterday that i have continued to mull over most of today. the piece immediately impacted me enough that i posted it as a snippet. i encourage you to at least skim the article if you want an idea of what sparked the contemplation that follows.
here’s the thing: maybe it’s just in my head, but i feel as if writing is different than other art forms in that the expectations are higher for enthusiasts of the craft. what i mean is, professing a passion for that particular creative outlet seems to involve an assumption of considerable skill in the form. other artistic expressions, from painting, photography, and film to music, dancing, and sports, are more forgiving of marginally skilled aficionados.
creative people want to create, whether they are the most talented or not–and while we are hard on ourselves (see article), it is acceptable to accept mediocrity and just take pleasure in the artistic process. for example, you can profess an enjoyment of bringing a blank canvas to life with color, but that does not automatically imply that you are a great painter. you can express an enthusiasm for capturing images though the lens of a camera, but you are not consequently expected to produce stunning photography. i am completely comfortable with confessing my love for dancing or playing the piano or cooking or other creative modes without feeling pressure to perform well in these areas. but if i gush about language and writing, i feel there is an implied expectation that i ought to be a capable, if not excellent, writer.
one of my favorite novelists is stephen king. (i would love to possess even a fraction of his unique skill with words, even as i shudder to think of knowing the disturbing inner-workings of his mind…but i digress.) king wrote a non-fiction book called on writing that was a sort of autobiography and writing guide. i first read it in 2001, and picked it up again yesterday after reading The Article. i love this quote (i interpret the word “talented” as defined from it’s origin, meaning “inclined” or “disposed”):
“…when you find something at which you are talented, you do it (whatever it is) until your fingers bleed or your eyes are ready to fall out of your head. Even when no one is listening (or reading, or watching), every outing is a bravura performance, because you as the creator are happy. Perhaps even ecstatic.”
when i write as a creative outlet, i am not necessarily a “good” writer by classical standards: i’m verbose, i use obscure words, and i’m fond of alliteration (if you haven’t noticed yet) but that’s just my style. for me writing is like any other artistic form of expression; it reflects personal taste. (this, of course, is distinct from writing for a technical or professional purpose.)
i like creating: music, food, pictures…and written communication. i am not claiming to generate exceptional prose; i simply enjoy the practice of molding the clay of our language into vivid narrative. i am more of a toddler experimenting with play-doh than a ceramicist throwing a flawless pot.
ultimately, the beauty of art is in the eye of the beholder, but the joy of creating lies solely with the artist.
