Culinary Intellectualism
I have this life-long friend who needs a code name I suppose. She shows up on a regular basis in my life. She was here at Christmas, catching a cold from my 9-month-old grandchild. Her hostess gift was a jar a pears she canned. Her 88-year-old-and-still-golfing retired-military father has a pear tree that stands on the boundary between his back yard and the golf course. Texas pears have a way of not being all that good. Every year my friend takes her share of that crop and makes something that she puts into jars. Some years the results are better than others. This year's efforts came into my house on Christmas day. I just opened a jar. This year's crop and the resulting canning efforts are very good. It is just fruit in a light syrup with fresh ginger and several whole cardamom seeds.
As I stood in my kitchen, reading a novel and eating preserved pears one small slice at a time, I thought about my friend's style of cooking. She does these marvelous things with food that end up being like a jazz riff on one's tastebuds. There is an ethereal and intellectual quality to her cooking. She thinks about the things she does with food. She thinks about almost everything she does.
I opened that jar and saw the whole cardamom seed and I thought to myself, Golly, what a gift. And, then I thought about what a gift she represents, a gift that is even better than fresh ginger, cardamom and Texas pears.
As I stood in my kitchen, reading a novel and eating preserved pears one small slice at a time, I thought about my friend's style of cooking. She does these marvelous things with food that end up being like a jazz riff on one's tastebuds. There is an ethereal and intellectual quality to her cooking. She thinks about the things she does with food. She thinks about almost everything she does.
I opened that jar and saw the whole cardamom seed and I thought to myself, Golly, what a gift. And, then I thought about what a gift she represents, a gift that is even better than fresh ginger, cardamom and Texas pears.