When I cook, I do a minimal amount of prep. I enjoy the outcome, but don’t enjoy chopping, squeezing and opening. By the time I’ve tasted and put all the ingredients together, I sometimes lose my appetite. Honestly, I don’t how chefs ever sit down for a meal. The joy of the final product for me, is muddled in steps to finish.
However, there are times I enjoy the process, and they are with my friend Kathy. When we are cooking at her house, the work sings. Her husband is humming and I’m whistling while the “stew is simmering”. It’s a threesome who know their place in the kitchen.
There are some kitchens that are more suited to the prep than others. Her’s is one. With granite counters and surgically sharp knives, I don’t mind the effort for the reward.
Yesterday, I helped my best friend Kathy shop for dinner. She is probably the best chef I have ever experienced and, she makes it harmonious and fun.
While she was cooking and her husband puttering, I went after the asparagus with creative intentions. Later and at home, I added my own ingredients. Damn, fruit is fun and vegetables make for mean, sculpted line work.
Last, I have not touched anything but Dr. Ph. Martin watercolors. Once a troubled step-child in my arsenal, they are now my primary medium of choice.
Skinny-scenting, sensual and drums,
quiet times in memory,
touch my taste and odor;
beat my burns until they heat.
My trapper of felines whose legs part,
more and more, sensual in blue,
hot in black, nails dark,
at noon and half-past six.
Pull them tight, together; make them smoke.
Sunflower praying, heating up with
cooked-up fun – such sauce.
Breathe oil and grease; midday fun.
Barry Comer 1012 – Illustration 2015