Transitory Clouds

My Buddhist friend calls the myriad of possessions, relationships, events and beliefs in our lives “transitory clouds in an illusory sky”.

I’m a dabbling Buddhist at best, but this statement has resonance. 

If we think of these “things” as clouds – changing, disappearing, migrating – it makes the rollercoaster of life essentially bearable.

When unwanted or unexpected change rears its head, our first reaction is often to cling or clutch for what we know, for the comfortable.  If we see the absurdity in this grasping at clouds, it allows us peace with these things we cannot control. 

It’s perceptive to find delight in a cloud’s formation and just as foolish to mourn its passing.

Let’s See What You’ve Got

Big D and sous chef Poco de Chile have asked me to develop a few menu ideas for the restaurant.  It’s not that they hold my culinary prowess in high regard, but rather this is a “let’s see what you’ve got” mind-set.  I don’t care why they’re asking –I’m determined to show them something good.  It started with “Come up with a soup” and morphed into “Come up with a soup and an entrée”.  By the end of the night, we determined I’d present them with a soup and a dessert.

I have a few ideas for soups.  I’ve been bestowing my co-workers with a new soup creation every week during the fall.  Like a gift from the Magi, I walk into the office carrying my large crock-pot of hearty goodness to share.  So far, I haven’t created anything steakhouse worthy (in my opinion), but I have a few ideas – and I can always fall back on my Moroccan soup that Chef loved if nothing else seems to work.

As for desserts, I think we’re missing a few things on our menu – a cheesecake, a citrus confection and an apple-based dessert.  To start, I’m focusing on citrus – lemon, to be specific.  I’ve homed in on two broad lemon dessert categories:  cheesecakes and tarts.  I want to elevate these basics by adding a secondary component – lavender, ginger or perhaps basil.  My trusty Culinary Artistry should help.  In Lucca, Italy, I tasted an amazing truffle of lemon and white chocolate.  Lucca’s chocolate is divine and this confection did not disappoint – I still remember it five years later.  If only I could duplicate the texture and flavor of that gem and somehow incorporate it into a dessert.

 Step 1 (tonight):

Pour over my recipes and winnow them down to the top three or four.

Reference Culinary Artistry for some good ideas on secondary flavor notes.

Review pending soup ideas

 Step 2…

Sunrise & Twilight

Last week, the two huge oaks outside my bedroom window finally received their long deferred pruning.  The morning sun, once hidden from my sleeping eyes, now pokes its nose into my room much too early.  Here there are, standing silent, at the other end of the day. 

A Very Adult Thanksgiving

My mother is smearing feces on her bathroom walls.  She’s also urinating in her closet at night.  No, she’s not insane.  She has Alzheimer’s – and it’s getting worse.  This was the recent report we received from her assisted living facility.  Happy Thanksgiving, right? 

She slept through Thanksgiving last night.  You can call me compassionless, but I think it was for the best.  It was a quiet dinner with my sisters, unlike our rambunctious extended-family meals.  My sister compared it to dining in a restaurant – good wine, good food, candlelight, adult conversation and a little jazz in the background – then mom woke up, talking crazy like a street person.

We made her a plate and finished our wine as she ate, ranted, and rambled.  During our earlier dinner, we discussed inviting neighbors or friends over – and then I see her and realize it’s almost impossible.  Perhaps they would be more empathetic than I?  I ask myself how bad she’s going to get.  My answer is:  much worse.

Alzheimer’s can be hereditary.  There’s a window of time between when you discover you have Alzheimer’s and when the dementia advances until you can’t remember. This morning, I wonder what I would do if I found myself at that juncture.  My response is sobering and frightening.

23 Sundays

I’ve vowed to work 23 Sundays at the steakhouse.  I’ve made it though four and I want to hang up my food-spattered apron.  How is this different from culinary school?  It’s not.  My expectations for school were high and then, once my education commenced, I hated it.  I hated it until sometime between week 5 and week 10.  Something clicked, something changed.  Sometime in April or May, I got the hang of it, built my confidence, and became relatively comfortable.  I just have to muscle through; tough it out.  Eventually, I will find my stride, even here.