As a precursor, if you have not read Pt.1 of this post, I suggest reading the next post after this one first.
I see this mainly; but then again, I have been called a dreamer once or twice before. Keeping in mind that he is someone's husband, it is not him I see, but it. The idea of it. That sounds nice: the idea of it. To me, the room pictured screams, "cook here, laugh here, spill wine here, make love here, hang prints to dry here, make paper mache on the floor here".
Oh dear, here. Sounds nice, yeah?
Oh dear, is right.
On the topic of spiritual kitchens, Tante Daryl's Thai Basil Something dinner turned out not only to be a smashing success taste-wise, but also a dinner of healing. By this time my food was digested (which you know now doesn't take long), my original ailments had long become a thing of the past. I was completely healed in time for dessert. And they were damn good Spelt chocolate chip cookies at that! She made this delectable fennel root asian-inspired slaw type of thing, dressed in fresh lime, crushed ginger juice and a bit of lemon I think, beside a bed of wide rice noodles with ground turkey and thai basil dressed in oyster sauce, and god knows what else.
She cooks from the hip, which I love about her and her meals are usually bang-on, just as her instincts tell her they will be, and sometimes, they aren't. But that is what I love about her, it is still eating a meal (even if it's kind of dry or tasteless) in the best company. I like to think it is her and her alone who taught me how to cook (even all the way back when I refused to eat tofu when I was eight) I would still watch her from the same chair that I do now. Yosh of course taught me the art of cooking curry, ham, cream sauce, bacon, and onions on our weekly Wednesday "Trip and laugh and EAT and tell stories" night.
Anyway, the 'slaw smelled delicious and tasted even better going down. Besides, as I was wolfing this down, she leans in and tells me that fennel root, crushed ginger juice and lime are all the ingredients available in our very own crispers that are proven to clear up heartburn. Fuck this Gaviscon, Tums, T3 drug (pardon my mouth) chemical business. There is FOOD you can make yourself to heal your own pain. I was impressed. Another life lesson: cook away pain. Whoa, that was heavy. To clarify (after re-reading part 1 of this post...), I did not shit my IKEA bed, I merely ate a tonne of dried fruit and nearly shat myself. Overshare? Pish posh.
We all shit.
Deal with it.