As I sit here munching my goat-buttered popcorn on a Sunday afternoon and feeling somewhat melancholy, I ask myself this very important question: Is there more to life than food? Honestly, probably not much, but I entertain the question because perhaps I have been a little too food-interested. It’s not like I’m a food professional. It’s more like food is just one hot dog on the grill of my life. The other hot dogs are reading, writing, music, yoga, and swimming, but the food dog is rather plump and juicy and loves to be admired.
Lately, as I’ve tried to move the food hot dog to the back of the grill due to my unfortunate food circumstances, the sewing hot dog has tried to make herself known in the mix. Sewing is something creative that I almost enjoy doing. So far, I’ve made some curtains for my bedroom.
The point is, I find that as I try to focus on things other than what I’m going to spend most of Sunday cooking, my other hobbies need to rise to the occasion. Sadly, they often don’t. I tend to do things that I do obsessively. So one year I probably read 30-40 books, maybe more (I was out of work a few months). This past fall, I absolutely binged on quinces (I’ll blog about that some other time). Now, I’m asking the sewing hot dog to jump off the grill, do an attractive little dance, and make me fall in love with her (why is she female?)
Because nothing else is really grabbing me right now. And all I really want to do is make panna cotta and beef bourguinon (the latter of which is a serious contender for next Sunday…the super-bowel).
Cooking has been one of my most sustained obsessions. I think I’m still grieving over the fact that she has had to roll off to the back of the grill for the last several months. I guess today I’m just halfheartedly backhanding my food mojo instead of actually bitch-slapping it, which is what I need to do.
I’m going to go read Julia Child’s beef bourguinon recipe now to cheer myself up.