It's about food. It's about meaning.
My life is predicated on the notion that food, like all other aspects of my life, should reflect me. If I am, for some reason, feeling particularly open-minded, my food choices will reflect that mood. I do not rush into every day thinking, "If I don't have the same thing I had yesterday, the implosion of reality is impending." Nor am I the sort to demand daily variety.
I can't say I strike a good balance of familiar versus "new" food choices. While the best intentions of all involved pave various side streets, I have a tendency to explore a particular aspect of flavor until I feel I've completed my investigation.
"Oh, intellectualizing it a bit, aren't we?"
Hi. It's what I do.
For example: Cajun jerk. There are a number of aspects to jerk recipes, not the least of which is their origin. Caribbean jerk is not the same as creole jerk, etc. I have discovered this through careful sampling, repeated research into both cookbooks and commentaries available to me, and personal experimentation. Prep varies as well. It started with a lightly seasoned chicken breast on a plate of plain rice. Yes, that was all the braver I got my sophomore year of college. Not long ago I roasted an entire chicken coated in Cajun jerk, stuffed with gumbo. I know that sounds odd, but believe me when I say that the combination turned out far better than what I'm saying implies.
While I adore cooking, and feel I have grown somewhat good at it, I think of myself first and foremost as a writer. Much as I study subjects from very odd vantage points, I use my bizarre understanding of the world to aid in my culinary dabbling.
There is no way you can intentionally write poetry with depth and personal meaning without being fluent in your poem. ("Jess, that makes *no* sense.") Stick with me on this one. If you're writing about something you don't understand, because you don't understand it, you are fluent in your confusion. If, however, you're writing about something and it simply becomes apparent that you have no idea what you're about, you've lost your way as well as your audience.
Food is the same.
I've had many a delightful set of courses that each spoke, but the meal was ineloquent, garbled. There were messages in the food, and memories, but a cohesive meal remained elusive. Why?
I am a person who enjoys complexities. Entangled tangents amuse and intrigue me. A meal composed of historically linked dishes, served neatly on an appropriately sized plate with clean silverware and napkin will resonate with me. Banter over the inspiration for each dish, countries of origin for ingredients and their current political realities, intricate deconstruction of a method in order to expose a more effecient means of creation: these are conversations I find enriching. I adore exploration, and feel my best when I am surrounded by those who are brave enough to share what they love. An honest, open exchange of food as well as ideas - what a night!
I told you I want to change the world. I want to change my world as much as I want to change the world around me.
What food has changed your world?
