It is Absolutely Not rocket science to know that sometimes the best way for me to navigate through a passing maelstrom of mind, mood, spirit is by making something that will potentially be used or enjoyed by others. The doing of the thing is the first good and the sharing of the thing follows. Not…
Tag: cooking
Good drawing out Good (or a morning at the Market)
When my schedule allows it, Saturday morning means a trip to the Halifax Seaport Farmers’ Market. There is so much about it that appeals to me…the artistic wonder that is the organic tapestry of different vegetables…all of the colours, textures, shapes, flavours… And the living mosaic of humanity too…The sensory input—the patter of vendors and…
A Bowl of Incense and a Spoon: A Poem
A Bowl of Incense and a Spoon With the good knife rescuedfrom a thrift store pegboard,The soup pot thurible is readyto incense the kitchen chapel.halve the onion, slice from the root,cross cut into a small dice.I settle my senses into thiswelcome ritual of prayer and blessing.Garlic: three cloves or four, depending,mashed into a paste with…
Summer’s Kitchen
A Summer Kitchen The stillness of time alone in a summer kitchen,time given to the grace of preparing cool foods for sharing,soothes my being, my humid thinking,my heat thickened body that turns toward the herb-clean subtlety passing through on air that also holds birdsong in its breath… Basil and chickadee, blue jay and lemon thyme;the cedar waxwing…
Poet in the Kitchen
I wrote this line today… I knew when I wrote it that more would follow. In its way, soup is poetry in a bowl…any recipe, really, is not unlike a poem. One of the decisions in a poem is about line breaks…knowing where the units of thought, sound, image, begin and end. Recipes too have…
A Psalm of Vinegar and Molasses
A Psalm of Vinegar and Molasses How wondrous are your flavours,oh Lord of balance and surprise; How wondrous to spend time within the intimacy that is cutting board and quiet;that is the scent of toasting seedsand the crack of release when they are pressed against the grain, leaving for history an echoing amenbefore being pinched up to dustthe glory…
Upon my hands
It was a beautiful beginning to my day… time at the Farmer’s Market; coffee and breakfast by the sea; pen and paper and time; and the joy of an inspiring cool breeze moving through the kitchen. Can’t begin to describe the good that this sort of thing does for me… Upon my hands My cupped…
Consider the Lilies 