Today I grazed the surface of sifting through and discarding old recipes and old recipe books. I am a lover and collector of recipes, cookbooks, articles, magazines and anything that transports me into the sensual earthy aromas of food, its preparation, history and personal stories. I am lifted into the art of creation and grounded at the same time by baking and simmering especially when there is the exquisite luxury of an abundance of time. This luxury usually occurs during snowstorms and blizzards. There is something cozy, homespun and utterly delightful in gardening, cooking and sharing meals. I come from an Italian-American tradition of boisterous holiday meals that lasted forever around the table. It was a coming together of family for better and for worse. Thankfully, I can usually only remember the better times.
So I filed, trashed and sighed as I thumbed through and tried to remember why I saved each recipe. What I recall is the desire to try each one. I became reaquainted with some classic loves and funky finds. I remember reading The Sunday New York Times cooking section like it was the Bible – which it was pre-internet-websites. I fell off somewhere, sometime when life got too busy to even dream. Happily, I am bounding back albeit a lot more discriminating in what I save. Still and all – I enjoy tasting the earth’s bounty every time I simply read a recipe. Sometimes this is enough.
Today’s haiku prompt is spice: