Pie eating. I don't mean to be gluttonous about it, but I seldom eat a proper piece of pie. I'd say I get enough dessert, overall, but perhaps need to shift more of the balance of dessert in the direction of pie. Or maybe I just have a momentary hankering for pie, and this is all just meaningless rambles. I do not intend to build a pie-eating action plan, so things will probably remain as they are on the pie-eating front.
Food and air, mostly. Ultimately, the Sun, I suppose.
Write about your most epic baking or cooking fail.
A blunder once in a while does not rise to tragedy. I burn toast on a regular basis. Think about that. It’s the most rudimentary culinary activity imaginable, and I fuck it up at least weekly.
To be fair, I think my toaster might be a North Korean imposter, part of a plot to undermine the Western Capitalist world one ruined breakfast at a time.
Those that are authentic to wherever I am at the moment. [Nothing fancy, but with nutritional value.]
The aim of introduction is to conceal a person’s identity.
George Mikes, How To Be an Alien
From the beginning our philosophers have tried to teach us how to die,
Jonathan weiner, Long for this world
and our poets have taught us that to contemplate death
is to learn to live.
Nothing is harder to see into than people’s natures.
Zhuge liang [a.k.a. Kongming], The WAy of the General
To know how to eat is to know how to live.
Auguste Escoffier
Reality can be beaten with enough imagination.
Mark twain
Flour, water, salt, and yeast. The epitome of simplicity.
I can’t remember, but it’s never been worth it. Seems like the more one pays for a meal, the hungrier one leaves it. Enjoy your “foam reductions” if you like, but it’s not for me. I’ll take street food any day — cheap, filling, flavorful street food. It’s got character and doesn’t try too hard.
My palate may be unrefined, but — also — I’m no sucker.
1.) love; 2.) a glorious turn of phrase; 3.) discovery; 4.) walking; 5.) swimming; 6.) stumbling upon an interesting and / or novel idea; 7.) movement; 8.) travel; 9.) street food; 10.) quiet; 11.) health; 12.) recognition that when things are at their very worst, they must get better — because everything is impermanent; 13.) an intense stretch; 14.) Whitman’s “Leaves of Grass;” 15.) undiscovered country; 16.) the hanging moment; 17.) a mystery-laden world; 18.) a moment of flow; 19.) a mountain path; 20.) a clear stream; 21.) the way of non-adversariality; 22.) a thing stripped to its simplest form; 23.) the moment breath turns the tide; 24.) animals being animals; 25.) a brief instant of free fall; 26.) the recognition that something that used to cause me angst or fear no longer does; 27.) when body, movement, and the world fall into alignment; 28.) first contact with someplace / something new; 29.) connection; 30.) the first sign that the struggle is paying off.
Move my body. Eat my veggies. Feel gratitude regularly. Do not stick my hand down the garbage disposal. Surrender to my ignorance.
It depends on where I am. I recently discovered that my Busan comfort food is “Hotteok with seeds.” In Central Asia, it’s tandoor bread — by whatever name it’s called in the local tongue. In Tblisi, it’s khinkali. In Peru, a lomo saltado is a beautiful thing. Chicago is the only place I’ll eat a hotdog, but I do love one there.
As a traveler, I find it’s important to not get attached to any one thing. If you crave a bagel, you’re great if you’re in New York or Tel Aviv, but if you insist on one in Hyderabad, it will be a sad experience. But, by the same token, if you order Chicken Biryani in Des Moines, expect to be underwhelmed (or — if not — to pay an exorbitant amount, either way it’s depressing.)
Probably the single most widespread comfort food would be whatever the local dumpling is, be it called mo-mo, khinkali, pierogi, dim sum, etc. All quite unique, but with an underlying familiarity.
So, in the immortal words of (the apparently quite slutty) Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young, “If you can’t be with the one you love… love the one you’re with.”
Tiger Riding for Beginners 