⇒Have you ever cooked or sought out food, inspired by a book or movie? Michael recently blogged about making a sardine pizza, inspired by a novel, which got me thinking.
Fiction must have inspired me to eat or cook something! but I can barely call any instances to mind.
Definitely age---I don't think it's a failure of the working of my memory, but that I have SO MANY MEMORIES to sort through.
I put the question to my brain. After two days, a memory floated to the surface, one I'd entirely forgotten:
When I was twenty, I went out for enchiladas and a strawberry milkshake because a detective in a novel by Joseph Wambaugh (I think) ate that.
It seemed exotic to me. Now I know fruity drinks are common in cuisine south of the border or Tex-Mexd.
I hope more memories will surface.
Speaking of memories, my auntie sent me this photo of her and her littlest brother whose 82nd birthday was yesterday. They're at Lake Michigan, in Milwaukee.
This uncle is one of the three (of ten) surviving siblings of my father. I'm happy I could email him a birthday message.
I feel enormously sad today that so many people from my childhood are gone. I also sense their presence, like the moisture in the air on this very humid morning.
People in the past are rooting for us, I feel:
Get it right, I hear them say. Be brave. . . . But loosen up! BE HAPPY. This will all slip away, the pains and the joys, soon enough.
Fiction must have inspired me to eat or cook something! but I can barely call any instances to mind.
Definitely age---I don't think it's a failure of the working of my memory, but that I have SO MANY MEMORIES to sort through.
I put the question to my brain. After two days, a memory floated to the surface, one I'd entirely forgotten:
When I was twenty, I went out for enchiladas and a strawberry milkshake because a detective in a novel by Joseph Wambaugh (I think) ate that.
It seemed exotic to me. Now I know fruity drinks are common in cuisine south of the border or Tex-Mexd.
I hope more memories will surface.
Speaking of memories, my auntie sent me this photo of her and her littlest brother whose 82nd birthday was yesterday. They're at Lake Michigan, in Milwaukee.
This uncle is one of the three (of ten) surviving siblings of my father. I'm happy I could email him a birthday message.
I feel enormously sad today that so many people from my childhood are gone. I also sense their presence, like the moisture in the air on this very humid morning.
People in the past are rooting for us, I feel:
Get it right, I hear them say. Be brave. . . . But loosen up! BE HAPPY. This will all slip away, the pains and the joys, soon enough.
