Sometimes you live with something for so long that you think it’s part of the landscape, and accept a massive inconvenience as part of life, ‘cause it’s always been that way.
Then someone with clear vision and a head full of good ideas walks up and gives you a smack… Someone like Lisa:
“Wake up! Your kitchen is tiny! You can’t wash pots in your sink! How do you ever cook anything in here? You… Have… No… Counter… Space.” Read More
I get up every day at 8:00 sharp. Do all the dishes my past-self thoughtlessly left in the sink, shower, take the dog out, prep my uniform for a day’s abasement, and walk 45 minutes to work. I walk down footpaths, through forests, past people’s backyard gardens. It’s not all concrete, there are trees and birds and sometimes bears and things… it’s nice. But, sometimes it can be a little boring.
Enter podcasts. The perfect way to fill my head with interesting news, fun-facts, tunes, humour and talk talk talk talk… All while I hike my way to work. I love podcasts of all types, and subscribe to many: Music, history, science, comics, etc. Each created and curated by a person (or persons) with mad passion for something. Now, I work in a kitchen, and cook at home, and write about cooking on this blog, so it’s not far off to say I’m obsessed with food. As it turns out, so are many, many other people (How many food blogs out there? Thousands?) and some of those people have access to a microphone and an iTunes account. Read More
Food has always been intrinsically tied to memory in my mind. I, for whatever reason, tend to recall good eats very clearly and use those moments almost like landmarks in the warped geography of my memories. People who share in my passion for food, who sit at the same table during a great meal, or go on food-related adventures with me get etched in my memories pretty deeply. This goes for people I cook with every day as well as with people I spent sporadic bits of time with… Like my Uncle Wayne. Read More
[What follows is a fragmentary manifesto detailing the existence of a secret order at work throughout the history of our society and it’s effect on our modern relationship with food. The original, charred pieces of manuscript are of very dubious origin. The author is no-where to be found and refuses in his writings to adhere to any sort of conventional thesis, narrative, or even rational discourse. Many (ie. other Editors) believe him to be mad, and many more believe that our mysterious un-named author is either deceased, or a fictional creation of another writer’s mind. Despite this, I have made his photos, notes and grease-splattered ravings available to anyone able to make sense of them, or perhaps shed light on the author’s ultimate fate.] Read More
“Spring breeze—
the pine on the ridge
whispers it”
– Kobayashi Issa (translated by David G. Lanoue) Read More