comforts

The challenge of a good sauce is the same for all foods, at least for those who seek to master their cooking art, and that is to find an agreeable, harmonious balance of flavors. Complexity is achieved through the marriage of unique yet simple facets.

Soy sauce, honey, chili paste, and brown mustard would all be mixed rapidly, with intention, in a bowl when my dad used to make fried chicken, or when I adopted the recipe starting when I was in college. I might add in chopped garlic or something else, or maybe my dad did, but those four ingredients were all that was needed. We'd find other edible vessels for the sauce once the meal was over, and the further back you go and the younger we were then, the less expected these foods were. As kids, dipping raw broccoli into the sauce? A parent's dream!

I taught my roommate how to dredge today, using chunked chicken breast this afternoon. It was a giddy experience because I haven't fried anything in many months and wanted to get my hands dirty with some home-cooking. Three bowls: flour, egg, and bread crumbs. Left to right. I provided the necessary explanation as to why which did much in the way of etching itself into memory for him. I finished the cooking project solo but with supervision, and we crafted nearly a dozen chicken tenders that were appealingly browned and bite-sized. Not exactly chicken wings, but paired with a sweet and savory sauce of honey and brown mustard - exactly half of the soy sauce recipe my dad used to make - and it was delicious all the same.

hot water and crushed leaves, some honey, a large mug

“Drink your tea slowly and reverently, as if it is the axis on which the world earth revolves - slowly, evenly, without rushing toward the future.” 
― Thich Nhat Hanh

A stout, stained, silver utilitarian teapot sits on the stove as I sit on the couch at home thinking of all of the kinds of promises I want to keep with this blog. I've decided on just one: that each post must be written as I'm enjoying a meal, about to enjoy one, or after I've just appreciatively finished one. Food is significant to everyone, but only the still and the quiet notice its wonders. It is built into our clockwork routines, appearing often as snacks and meals, as social events and pleasures taken in solitude. A gentle whistle gives way to a harsh whirr and I know my tea is ready to be assembled. This blog will be written as a pathway and medium for reflection, one that I will patiently assemble as meals are, each meal itself a collection of moments fertile with ideas, sensations, emotions, and nourishment.  

I sip my peppermint tea, sweetened with an organic honey, and breathe deeply. My breaths are stopping at my belt, fastened just a little tightly, but I feel soothed. 

Only the well-written (and well-read) reap the benefits of language. A well-spoken sentence, a proper turn of phrase, an insight shared with another, are harvests of a bounty of sounds and concepts. A fresh, nutritious meal is a harvest of a season of hard work. It is with patience, zeal, and a sense of wonderment that I hope to take my nourishment - starting with this tea - and turn it into morsels of thought, empathy, activism, humor, achievement, tragedy, and, if I'm lucky, poetry. For us all to enjoy. 

 Sip sweetly, consume thoughtfully.