Not today though.
I was just starting my morning routine, preparing our ritual Saturday morning cinnamon rolls for the menfolk, when I realized I was also visiting with an old friend. No, not hallucinating (though I have been up since 2 a.m., earning shekels BTW, and am only semi-concious), but reminiscing through the use of my friend's exceptional recipe.
Oh Terry, I read your blog. It's so funny! Add recipes! I can't believe you are a master chef and culinary instructor now. Remember when I had you to a dinner party about 4 zillion years ago? You barely ate a thing because, as you said back then, you "lived on Tab."
In a crazy, over-scheduled world I know we have advnaced ways to keep in touch: text, Twitter, Facebook, email, blogging, Skype...
But a lot of times, I have to say, I prefer food. When I pull out a yellowed and crackling old recipe card written in my Grandma's hand, she is there with me as I make the soup. When I wonder what's up with my friend Amy (who is, compared to me, busy X 10), I may visit her blog and see what homegrown whole food healthy concoction she's brewing up in her kitchen now. The notes in the margins of my mom's cookbooks speak to me. Making the sourdough starter just the way my dad taught me in his farm kitchen brings his presence into my home and warms it up with memories.
And there you are, talking to me in my kitchen, and you didn't have to do a think