An afternoon nap led to a strange dream. I was in someone’s house, cooking spicy spareribs. I’ve never been in that kitchen before, but I seemed familiar with it, it looked like a combination of all the kitchens in all the houses I’ve lived in through the years.
The spareribs were done, and I was sitting on the counter with the laptop typing away, when my ex suddenly came in. Don’t ask which ex, I’m not telling. He went straight to the pan of spareribs on the stove, lifting the lid and sniffing with his eyes closed. Then he turns to me and says’ “Why are you not sharing this with me?” I was silent. He glares at me, then pouts. He goes to the counter, takes out a plate and a fork and helps himself to the spareribs. In between bites he keeps muttering, “It’s so good, so good!”
This is when I woke up from the dream, disoriented to find myself in bed instead of the kitchen. It felt strangely erotic. And now I am hungry.
I don’t know how I’ll manage it, or where to get the time, but the long-planned food blog is up and running. Among other things, I am also a closet cook. Weekends not spent lounging around the house or imbibing with friends become cook-in weekends. Sometimes the dishes I make get gobbled up so fast, photos are forgotten, and empty plates look up at me, shining with recrimination.
The photos I did manage to take have all been languishing in the hard drive. I’m shaking them out and recreating recipes that I usually make from scratch. Some people have a memory for images, I think I have a memory for tastes. So, drawing from this store, I hope to let loose my cooking (and eating) on the Web.
Drop by and ogle some munchies. Bon appetit!