As summer winds down, and thoughts turn to Christmas (What?! Only 119 days left?), what have we learned these balmy days?
Most of all, it seems, human nature being human nature, that so many worlds collide, separate, and seem to exist in isolation. It’s always been that way. Murder and mayhem, doormen and a good table.
Meanwhile, less globally, on a personal level, it’s been disparate. On the one hand, my new book on India is done, my novel is nearly done, and I’ve published about fifteen articles in the past three months about Japanese culture in Travel + Leisure, The Boston Globe, Gastronomica, KarryOn, Robb Report, Beer Advocate, Cheese Connoisseur, and Destinasian. On the other hand, there’s a fleeting, moody, restless dissatisfaction. The theory goes that the lability precedes the creative act, but there are other explanations surely.
In September I’ll start work on the Plainfield race riots of ’67, and continue to hole up.
Food? Why, yes, of course. The summer is ending with tomatoes galore. Gazpacho in seven minutes, for example. Two tomatoes, one red or orange pepper, one cuke, two little shallots, olive oil, mirin vinegar, sambal oelek. Chill.
