I have an unused jar of cardamom. I have bags of flours—semolina, 00, peanut, spelt, whole grain pastry, wheat—some used, some not opened yet. I have a mortar and pestle my daughter bought me years ago. I have…
Things I’d like to know better, get used to using, be able to improvise with. But, of course, you can only get to know something by, well, getting to know something. How do you do? My name is…. What’s yours?
I want to pick one thing, and use it. And then use it. And then use it again.
One week. A second week. A third week.
Pick another, and repeat.
Ironically, I can’t bring anything to the table at the moment. It is filled with cereal boxes, pasta, bags and boxes of grains, cans of beans, crushed tomatoes. And also wine, bourbon, vermouth, cointreau and other bottled spirits. Temporary housing.
Substantial rain recently caused ants to seek dryer ground and, apparently, raid cabinets in search of party food. They’re mostly gone, a few stragglers persist.
I am like a new business with paper up in the windows, while behind the scenes I free up the table, mop the floor, put some flowers around, and, in the meantime, have a sign across the front door…