Manifest Taste Destiny

I. Present Simple to be

 I am here.  Present simple to be  reports your place in the world.  It is now. 

I am a woman

I am a mother

I am Jewish

I am a teacher.

I am here with you.  At this micro-breath in time, what are the chances?  

Kitchen Sat Nam: If I set my intention and then flow with the ingredients some kind of enlightenment can be reached. Right now truth is cornbread, a golden baked double batch with a butter-maple glaze.  Nourishment is the intention.  Nowwwwww for the flowwwwww…

Glazed fat buddha scones with plenty of sweet maple-butter flavor and spiked with toasty chopped nuts. Intention: ABUNDANCE   I am here: post yoga birthday brunch. 

I am here:  Juicy blueberries violetly bleeding out in the creamy white batter.  A nicely gilded crunch borne from butter and brown sugar crowning this delightful baked beauty for my sweet college Girlette, back for a spell, long enough for me to whip up something homemade. Intention: Think of me sweetly.

II.  Kitch Sitch:

It is so horrible, bleak, terrible, horrid, disastrous.  No, it’s just bad.  Baaaad.  Hyperbole not necessary. Elaboration not needed.  BAD, SAD, POOR monosyllables are best for this kind of bad.  Uggh Oooof Meh.   And so she’s in the kitchen.  What other kind of escape is there? The chance to make something that redeems and makes it all worthwhile if only for a  snip of time.  She will make something delightful, some kind of luxurious balm for the internal withering.  Feed it. Feed ‘em. Love it Love ‘em.

She would be somewhere else soon.  The deal is almost done.  Whether Darrin is on board is another question.  Her mother is happy to let her stay with them for a “moderate amount of time”.  If not there is always the Avalon Hotel. The kids? What about the kids? Miriam proves to be more resistant than she imagined, but is generally willing. She needs to work around Jed. Just the thought of her husband raises her blood pressure, she could hear fizz in her ears and feels her blood rise or is it just a hot flash? 

She is in the kitchen, at the counter, breathing in deep, breathing out low, she notices the sun slant on the counter, she takes an extended slurp from her cup. Coffee intervention, is exactly what he would say.  Looking at the bulbous Anjous in the bowl, as smooth and tawny as polished wood.  Salvation is in flavor and texture and taste bud charity.  

Recipe: Abundance

Pears in a bowl, sweet, yielding, gracefully curved and rounded pears. 

Sliced length-wise and then, juice pooling on the cutting board.  Sweet and lush. Cinnamon, nutmeg.  Brown sugar, maple syrup. Butter. Thick rich caramel, nectar of the gods, sweets for the malcontents.  Pear slices like the spokes of a rustic wheel. Golden caramel impasto background for the glorious fruit. 

A light oil redolent of walnut.  A thick and fluffy maple infused batter, over the sweet buttery pears.  Bake until golden and bubbling with molten caramel from the edges.  Flip it.  I was this. I am that.   But how do you talk about the mid- flip time blip? 

III.

BASH’s Salon

Bash (into phone) Come for dinner. OK then come for drinks….I dunno an assortment of people.  Mostly interesting, but I am not a complete snob so Sorrelle will be there, I’m kiddddding, I’m joking, I love her.  But I do suggest you come in time for the debut of Eli’s epic violin poem.  Tres sérieux as you like to say. No the ballet sketch is after the coffee/chocolate course, which I know you will be there for. You’ve never once missed a coffee/chocolate course. Ok wonderful, see you then.  Oh, Zilla, are you still there? Thank you for the pears, I love it.  You know I love your still lifes, and this one is just perfect.  I’m putting it on the mantle in the kitchen, of course. Thank you, thank you. 

Dinner Party Scene:

Guest: Bash, you’ve done it again. 

Guest: More like OUTdone it again. 

Guest: I’m done good and drunk again. Compliments to the chef.

Bash: The chef thanks her sous chef. 

Davis: All I did was chop onions and garlic.

Bash: Never underestimate the perfect dice and fine mince. Right Lora?

Guest (consulting handwritten menu): Next up? Pasta con Violino?

Bash (indicating to the young woman and man waiters in sharp white shirt black pant) Please plate the pasta like I showed you, and the dispense.  I need to get Eli comfortable and ready to go.  When you hear violin that’s your cue. Good?

Waiter: Yes’muh

Waitress: Got it.

They exit to kitchen.

BAsh: Ok Eli, no pressure but we’re waiting eagerly to hear your debut violin poetry.

Eli: Poetry is an icky word for me. I prefer Violin narrative.  

Bash: Ok, excited!

Eli:Where’s your friend Zilla?

Bash: Uhh she has a previous engagement but should be here after dessert if you care to stick around.

Eli (striking the violin with the bow dramatically): we’ll see.  (A flurry of bow strokes) I woke up one morning and realized it was all just a dream. It is all just a dream. A glorious blink of the eye.

(Waitress comes out with a tray of shallow white pasta bowls with  spaghetti strand piled in a ruddy swirl, scattering of white part flakes and a speckling of fresh green oregano) The waiter follows behind like an uncoordinated puppy.

Guest: I need more wine. 

Waiter: Wine? (He looks around confused)

Bash: Just set down the plates first and then get Charve his wine. He can wait

Eli (coming off a spiky staccato riff) I stretch in the sun beams.  Recalling bits of conversation and fragments of drama, sense memories from other frequencies.(Long taut note, held like a disappearing Ommmm)

Guest: This is delicious

Guest: So well flavored and fresh. And balanced.

Bash: It’s Davis’ aromatics I tell you

Davis: That and my good lovin’

Bash: It’s a good thing I like ‘em corny. The brilliant knife skills just gild the lily

Davis: Deglaze the pan. 

Eli sidles onto the green velvet chaise. Holding a full round glorious note. Clear and bright as a bell. I am here now.  A high pitched shriek that mellows out into a rumble.  He leads into several recognizable bars of Mozart, and then a few bars of something that sounds original. “Beauty. Truth. Connection.”

Guest: LOVE. Beautiful. Daaaarling, just gorgeous.

Charve: So delicious, I ate it up with a spoon. 

Bash: Drank it down in a glass.