observations on this life

observations on this life
The art of cooking is kind of like painting, except the canvas gets eaten instead of admired. I'm reading A Cooks Tour by Anthony Bourdain. He describes the art as something that comforts him, guides him in life. I haven't hit that mark yet. I'm still trying to find my rhythm with the food. I love the textures of the ingredients. I love tweaking a sauce to suit my tastes. I love making a simple recipe better with the addition of just one or two things, but it's all halted, choppy, not flowing as smoothly as I'd like. I've always had this thing about wanting to be very good at something from the beginning of trying whatever it is, but in food it takes practice. Not that you can't cook and have it come out edible, but to make great food that lingers on the mind longer than it lingers on the tongue is more difficult.

Last night's dinner, the photo is below, was one of those times when it did linger on the mind after the meal was over.