last night I was thinking about food...

... perhaps the real question should be... when do I not? It was spurred on by something that Mum said yesterday as I was sharing a meal with her. "You have become quite a good cook." I beamed because that is indeed high praise coming from one's mother.

I was thinking about how I learned to cook pretty early in life. By the age of 8, I could whip up a pretty decent fried rice. By my teen years I had amassed a good stash of recipes and was able to lay out an entire (and balanced) meal for the dinner table off the top of my head. (No recipe books for this boy.) I loved (and still love) the physical act of cooking. The prep... deciding what goes in and in what proportions... and when it's done and ready to serve. I think it was the the magic of combining various food elements to produce a certain distinct taste that first grabbed me.

Though it was only in my early 20's that I began to appreciate and understand the subtleties and nuances that affect the palette. Until that point in time cooking was more of a functional joy. But the more I cooked the more secrets were revealed to me. For instance, how chopped, sliced and crushed garlic all provide a different value to a dish. Sure, I could have read up about it (and eventually did) but it was the pure joy of discovery through doing that made these revelations akin to the apprentice uncovering the dead wizard's secrets. One day it seemed as if the unprepared food was communicating with me. I was infused with the innate knowledge of what, when, why and how much... and all of this was coming from the food itself.

ONION: If you are thinking of using me in that cucumber salad... slice me wafer thin... and a slight sprinkle of salt will bring out my sweetness. A squeeze of lime as a dressing will hide it until the fresh crunch of the cucumber dissipates... then my true nectar will bloom to its fullness.

It was this that occupied my slightly deranged mind last night... how when we eat several sensation explosions occur. Taste, smell, touch... this series of little explosions... perfectly timed and building one upon another that provides the total sensuousness to the act of eating. This in turn triggers a euphoria... further releasing various chemical secretions into the rest of our physical being that causes us to shut our eyes in delight and moan wistfully as we implode into the complete surrender of the moment to the meal ... not unlike that exquisite sexual experience. And when sharing a meal with someone else this communion becomes a menage a trois with the meal having it's way with both of you simultaneously.

::wiping my brow::

And while I was thinking about all of this... I came up with an idea for a play about a terrorist chef.

EDIT:
And to all you Mamas out there... be celebrated... be very celebrated... you deserve it! Cheers!
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