Why write? Why cook?

Ireland.

Wild.

And tame.

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And now a memory. As I walked the streets of Galway, I pinched myself and thought over and over, "Appreciate. Savor. Love." For all too soon it is a memory. In my work life, I am waiting for these days to be a memory. I am in the "dark side of the moon" phase where even my award-winning plays cannot find a home. I considered papering the walls with my "You write very well, but we cannot market this particular play" letters. It's been many, many months.

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So why write? Well, it silences the voices. Yes, it is true. Writing (particularly plays) encourages a schizophrenic mind set. And writing is some sort of bizarre artistic therapy. Which brings me to cooking. It, too silences the voices.

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In Julie and Julia, Julie Powell says, "“I love that after a day where nothing is sure — and when I say nothing, I mean nothing — you can come home and absolutely know that if you add egg yolks to chocolate and sugar and milk, it will get thick. It’s such a comfort."

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I love that statement - but I am not sure that is why I cook. When I cook, I can lose myself. When I am chopping aromatics, my head is quiet. I am fully engaged in the colors and aromas and the wish to not cut my fingers off. Fast food does not give me that. Fast food leaves out anticipation. It does not fill my head with anything but the worry I am ingesting unknown ingredients! The physical activity of whisking, chopping and tasting engages my eyes, ears, nose and anticipatory taste buds. It has to. I'm not all that coordinated.

I look at my thyme and I know that if I combine it with lemon juice and a bit of olive oil and throw it in a bag with chicken drumsticks, I will make some people very happy. All I need to do is grill on some blazing coals and it will disappear - amid smiles.
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Combine pasta with the bounty of the season, add some cheese and your pick of herbs and you have a meal. A meal that feeds, nourishes and entices. When the rejection slips pile up and I cannot face the computer, I turn to my kitchen. It lifts the fog. It nourishes body and spirit. I will now write a scene for my middle school play and sautee some porcinis from Italyville with shallots and cream. There is no guarantee that the scene will remain in the play. But I am sure the porcinis will delight!