|
Cooking in our kitchen is a dance. It is part of a larger dance whose steps we know by heart. Deb envisions the meals and lists the ingredients. I hunt and gather. Deb puts the groceries away.
The next move is mine. Deb taught me the value of mise-en-place, as well as its meaning. I look at the recipe. My attention is drawn not to the ingredients but to the amounts. How many small bowls will I need? And this draws me into a more expansive dance, for when I pull out the drawer brimming with small bowls, some perfect for holding ½ tsp, I see more than tiny ceramic containers. These are warm memories of places and people.
Bowls from Fes remind me of a small restaurant down a dark, twisting street where we heard jazz on an Arabic oud. Tiny creations purchased at a market in Ajijic bring to mind the woman whose gnarled hands crafted beauty. A colorful bowl from VisArts reminds me of the bonds of friendship forged with their board and staff.
Cooking throws open the window of memories that invite me, once again, into a world that sways with grace beyond the walls of our kitchen.
Blessed are you, Creator, for the gifts of soil and sun, water and wind. Thank you for everyone and everything that played a part in creating this meal. As we leave this table, may we see your face in every face we meet. Amen
| 
