It's been a while

Every time someone sees my mortar and pestle, they look at me as if I have three heads and ask: "What is That for?"

Well, children, it isn't for witchcraft...but it is magical.

The list is actually quite long and quite practical. Pesto, with all the glorious scent of crushed basil; garlic butter; grinding whole cloves and aniseed for Swedish meatballs; and this morning: freshly ground coffee that went into the French press. I am drinking it now, and jammin' with my Elmo-meets-lawnmower hair to some Yo-Yo Ma.

I am alone in the house this morning. The coffee is rich and aromatic as only coffee can be. I have the sun behind me, and I know a good friend of mine will be here later. This moment, one of so few, feels zen to me. This last year and change has been anything but balanced. I have moved twice, realized I could fit almost everything I own in my car, watched people come and go in my life, and finally followed my feet. No, I didn't go home. I have one now, though.

In the course of writing that paragraph, I became completely un-zen. It's taken a while to come up for air from the last year, and now that I have, I realize some things. I am much older. I have grey hairs now. Food is a different proposition, and we'll talk about that. But after all that, I may never be able to divest myself of the intense caring which has been both a cement block on my feet and Mary Poppins' umbrella.

The act of cooking is still an act of love to me. However, not everyone is able to accept the same kind of love in the same kind of way. They may just be meaties, and that's ok. I'm not offended. This is just teaching me to really be independent, to make decisions, to take care of myself in a way that I relied on certain Big Cats to do. This is freeing, too.

But! To the matter at hand. For a while, we were talking about vegetables, grains, and trying to get a grasp on the underpinnings of home cookin. This still feels like a place to start, and so I think we will talk about proteins next time. This is a challenge that many face, veggie or not, and one that can lead to either joy or utter, stonegrinding boredom. Because, who wants bland ____ing chicken again?? Really. Insert your own choice of expletive there.

 Since I haven't shared any experiments lately, I'll leave you with one I intend to repeat. Over Christmas break, I concocted Huckleberry Muffins. These are pretty staple muffies, with white-whole-wheat flour, oatmeal, applesauce, etc. The huckleberries, however, are anything but staple. They're wild, glorious, tart, complex, better than blueberry currant-sized morsels. I know, I know, pics or it didn't happen. Soon. I promise.