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Thanks Giving

A house burns down. A loved one dies. A relationship falls apart. A love ends. A lifetime of work comes to a crashing halt. Mother nature chews up homes and spits out splinters. When the bedrock of one’s life is shaken, the structures above it give way.

When everything you knew is no longer valid and life as you knew it is scattered to the wind, what continues to be true? What pieces of your life do you collect up and take with you?

What is it that you hold in your two hands and say “Thank God I have this.”

Maybe that thing you hold is a loved one, a treasured snapshot, a letter, a phone with a loved one on the other end, a piece of art, or a piece of toast handed to you by a friend. Maybe it’s just ashes that’s left, and you’re thankful for the life you still have. Regardless, when all is lost, it is the simple, beautiful things that remain that you give thanks for.

Things turned upside down for me a week ago when I got honest about some difficult things going on in my life. I stood up for myself, got honest, and took a stand for what it is I want.

Then, I my placed my life into a crucible and lit a match.

My life has been re-written a million times in just one week. Up is down. Down is east. Left is right. Day is night. Right is wrong. My structured life with pretty little hospital corners and black and white decisions no longer exists. I live in a world of gray. Now, my pristine bed is unmade, and—the irony isn’t lost on me—the sheets I sleep on are torn from all my tossing and turning.

What remains? Beautiful, profound things. Friendship. Family. Sunlight. A mouthful of food when I’m hungry. Sleep. A snapshot. A journal. A blanket to keep warm. The view from atop a mountain. An air mattress to sleep on. A vegetable stand at the farmers’ market. A slice of blueberry bread. Love.

When all is lost, it becomes a lot easier to see what’s truly important. The frivolous items or ideas I collected up and held close for safekeeping have fallen away. I don’t need those things any more. I give thanks to the true things. My friends. My family. Sunlight on the ocean. Food in my belly. The feel of the sun on my face.

What remains is love. Continue reading “Thanks Giving”

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A Recipe for Better Food Writing

The key to great writing, a wise friend once told me, is to look at the subject from the inside out. “It’s not about what you think you should say,” he said. “It’s about what’s going on inside of you.” So, though I’d love to say I have a great recipe and sexy food shot for you today, instead I have a recipe for observing*.

Food + Eyes + Nose + Mouth + Imagination = Taste

 

The first step in this equation is to make a dish. Or buy a ripe piece of fruit. Maybe even sneak a square of chocolate from your secret hiding place. Then, take a quiet moment to take in all that it is. What do you see? What do you smell? What does it feel like? Does this food remind you of something?

recipe for better food writing
Non-SEO’d illustration

I’ve been obsessing over pears lately. It all started up in San Francisco when I took an aggressive bite of a perfectly ripe Frog Hollow pear. The surprise of texture, flavor, and—let me be honest here, sticky juice running down my arm–gave me one of those rare food moments that instantly  transported to the bedroom of my mind. Everything about that pear reminded me of tossed sheets and pulled curtains.

If you were at the tasting pavillion at the Food Buzz conference, you might have seen me blush. It’s been a while since I had one of those sexy fruit moments.

So, ever since that sensual bite, I’ve been feeling up pears all over Los Angeles. I seek the green and browned skinned fruit at the market with eager fingers. Is this one soft enough? How about this one? A farmer at a fruit stand today watched me as I picked over a pile of hard, green pears. “These guys are crisp,” he said, “but they’re really good.”

I couldn’t hold back my displeasure.  “I want something really juicy and dirty,” I said and scurried away before he could identify me. What’s gotten over me? Continue reading “A Recipe for Better Food Writing”

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A Poem

Quiet, quiet. Still, still.

Hush away the buzzing whir of empty chatter,

rushing traffic, hour to hour radio.

The burble of the office building.

Leave me with computer hum, clicking keys,

and the promise of words (private words).

Let time fill me with unending space.

Show me the way to the next line.

Only God knows where this is leading.

Quiet, quiet. Still, still.

Without witness I am most alive.

This isn’t a blog about poetry, I know. You’ll have to forgive me for the side step. But poetry is something that sometimes happens to us writer types. It sneaks its way in between the cracks sometimes, and carves out a space that begs for attention. Poems are like that. Just like people.

Though these words came to me in a steady stream while driving through LA over six years ago, they seem especially true for Right Now and I felt compelled to share them with you.

Our world is moving so fast right now–what with iPhones, iPads, Twitter, blogs, media streams going! going! going! It’s incredible that none of that technology really existed when I wrote this poem. And yet…I stumbled across this poem the other day and thought it was a perfect way to celebrate the three year anniversary of my blog and where I am right now.

No matter how busy the world gets, it’s important to be still. Still within yourself. Because without that quiet, nothing good, clean, or true can come.

That is all.

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A Writer’s Perspective on Food Buzz 2010

Everyone has their own way of seeing the world. No one perspective of a moment in time is more true than another. Where and how we stand defines the perspective we have. Some of us feel comfortable in the corner, far away from the swarm. Others love to be in the center of activity, drumming up the energy of the event. Some of us are in bodies that are strong, frail, tall, short, thin, or wide. We are fearful, fearless, energetic, slow, curious, and apathetic. All these differences make us who we are and how we see things.

The soup of reality is what makes living in the world so damn fascinating. We’re all in it together, but we all add something different to the pot.

I think that’s why I love reading wrap up posts of food blogging events so much. It doesn’t matter if I was there, center stage, or watching from the side lines, I get so much from reading and seeing the differing perspectives.

I scan the photos and think—I didn’t see that! Ooh, I remember seeing this happen!—and read the words—How come I didn’t taste that! I wish I had a moment so affecting—and find a well of knowledge I didn’t know I was missing, filled up.

How I come to these conferences is constantly changing. Sometimes I have high expectations, other times I walk in anticipating nothing. Either way, I’m always surprised by what I discover—be it in the form of a new acquaintance or experience—regardless if it’s a positive or negative.

With just one day separating me from my life changing week of training at ZingTrain in Ann Arbor, Michigan, and my trip to FoodBuzz in San Francisco, I didn’t have much room for day dreaming about what would happen once I arrived.

As I boarded the plane to SF with my LA friend Jen (of Devour the World), I began organizing my thoughts for the trip. Though I wasn’t sure what to expect, I did know I was excited to be part of a food writing panel. Even more, I was looking forward to sharing a quiet moment in time with a handful of foodbloggers, to see what we could create with words. Continue reading “A Writer’s Perspective on Food Buzz 2010”

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Service 101: Finding My Mecca

Zingerman's Deli

Some people go to churches for inspiration. Others go to shrines, nature, the farmers market, or a synagogue for a higher message. For me, mecca is a tiny delicatessen in Ann Arbor, Michigan named Zingerman’s.

I never expected to find bedrock inspiration from inside a humble brick deli with crooked wood floors. But ever since I took my first step inside the tiny footprint that is the deli, being there feels like I’ve been given a triple dose of hope. Within the overstocked walls of the hundred-year old building, there are employees who smile and gush about the products, and practically jump through hoops in order to please each and every customer. These employees—cherry cheeked teenagers, college students, young mothers, sisters and brothers, and gray haired men in bandannas–exhibit the kind of enthusiasm that one expects to see from the chorus of a big stage musical, just before the music starts.

They don’t serve Kool-Aid, but they’ll sample you on any product

At any of the Zingerman’s Community of businesses (or ZCob for short), the senses are bombarded. Colorful signs, packed shelves, freshly baked breads, and deli cases are filled with cheese and meats so appealing they have the power to make just about any food lover blush. With just one sample taste and an engaging description by an enthusiastic employee, many customers find themselves feeling the positive effects of the place. They loosen up. They smile. And, unsurprisingly, the soothed customer happily hands over piles of cash for a jar of wild flower honey, preserved lemons from Tunisia, the loaf of deli-sourdough, a chunk of Italian Pecorino, a vial of garum (an Italian fish sauce), a bar of chocolate imported from the Ecuador, and a buttery/spicy olive oil. Items that just moments before the customer had no idea they really, really wanted.

Look, if you’ve never been to Zingerman’s Deli, Creamery, Bake House, Mail Order, Candy Manufactury, Roadhouse, or Coffee Company in Ann Arbor, then you might think all of this positive work ethic stuff might sound a little bit hippy dippy. The thing is, there are no camp songs, no hokey character outfits that everyone is required to wear, and no corporate brainwashing. It’s simply a place where art and commerce meet and happiness and profit are friends.

Continue reading “Service 101: Finding My Mecca”