Warming Up

I had a beautiful dinner the other night. It was cold outside, the kind of chill that's like a bar of metal, and I was slated to work until 11pm. Luckily I had a packed dinner from TK to eat at my desk – beef goulash with pasta. It was a slow-cooked special, the meat tender even after a blitz in the microwave, and filled with savoury spikes of carrot and mushroom. I will admit it was very rich – the gravy was like lava, perfect for the fat pasta spirals, but disturbingly similar to confit when it went cold. But it was hearty food for a winter night and it was so delicious.


Awesome pic via moogs Flickr
And yet the more perfect it was for the occasion, the more homesick I got for something completely opposite. All I could think of was how wonderful it would be to possess a bowl heaped with gleaming cherries. Or lift a fork to a slice of mango. Even just feel a fuzzy peach under my fingers. I wanted the pleasure of sunshine food again. Not the weight of foods that are marbled with protective fat, or packed with stewed vegetables. I want light stuff, delightful stuff, food that tastes sharp and bright. It doesn’t even have to be sweet – I can’t pick a ripe peach to save my life, it’s always the acid too-earlies or the half-drunk too-lates. Just food that's alive again.


I am so ready for summer!

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