Life in the Real World

I’ve recently been coming up nose to nose with those for whom reality is an option rather than an obligation and, folks, lemme tell you, it’s not easy.  You try to talk about a real relationship, a situation that requires planning and pragmatism, and what do you get instead?

This:

Ken and Barbie just had their first fight.  Ken wants to go on their honeymoon to the beach because he lives surfing, swimming, and playing sand volleyball.  But Barbie likes to ski, go on hikes, and sit in front of the fire at the lodge while drinking a cup of cocoa.

Telling you.

So where’s the relief?

Right.  Cooking.

I’m reading Marcus Samuelsson’s memoir, “Yes, Chef,” and it’s finally picking up on about page 132.  Race enters, identity is challenged, and he pushes himself harder in the kitchen at a posh hotel in Interlaken, Switzerland.  The cooking provides a refuge.

Of note, too, is that Samuelsson wanted to be a chef from about age fifteen.  I love passion and focus.

Speaking of the refuge of cooking: The baby chickens just arrived.  I’ll roast these babies in a miso-butter broth, remove them from the oven to cool, and cook tiny pasta in the drippings and broth along with corn kernels, Thai basil, and sliced radishes.  The trick here will be the timing, of course: Adding the radishes and Thai basil at the very end.

I have an idea: Why not 1/2 the time at a beach resort and 1/2 the time in the mountains?  Barbie, you good with that?  Oh, honey, don’t pout!

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