Thursday and it feels so dark outside, I woke before the alarm, staggered out of bed bleary eyed. My alarm today is my wrist watch and I know I didn’t leave it on other side of the room to force me up. It’s going to go off in the house somewhere in four minutes time…..where the hell did I leave it.
I’m struggling to attack the next drip of the book so I’m reaching for the kindling prompt this morning.
We’ve talked about the one person who must read your book. Thinking of that person, what do they believe that other people might not believe? What do they care about that makes them particular, specific or even an outlier? What are they afraid of? What do they laugh at? What do they wonder about?
That cooking is more than just the assembly of ingredients. That food is more than just fuel for the day. That day by day the food we eat and prepare is a way of life, that nourishes the soul, and lays the foundations for the future body, mind and self.
They look at a fruit stand at a farmers market in awe and as they do they might close their eyes and dream of the raspberry bushes or the rows of strawberries. It might take them back to a time they were fruit picking as a child. Sneaking one here and there, juice and sweet with the sun pouring down on their faces. Putting a few in the old sports bag that their dad had tucked away hidden for tea so as not to be charged on the way out. Filling up the wicker baskets to be weighed in order to be paid a small amount of money that would pay for nights campsite.
Then there is the root vegetables perfect in their imperfections, covered in soil perhaps picked in the early hours of the morning fresh from the fields. They don’t have something on the list of ingredients, it’s not in season, it’s the wrong time of year. Trying to make a pumpkin soup in February as they came across a recipe they’ve stored away for a future date since October perhaps last year or even a year before that buried in an in-tray.
They wonder at the cookbooks in the cookery section of the bookstore and dream….
Scribble and Scran 
I love this. Both my parents were avid gardeners and I have such fond memories of our garden harvest and just how much of our food came from the backyard. I didn’t appreciate it then, but I sure do now.
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You’re writing a cookbook? I am, too!
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That’s awesome, a personal project for me been burning in the background for a long time now
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Ha! Let’s hope both of ours are “well done.”
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I’m thinking slow cooked and matured! 😉
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