Fight 4 Taste

 A bowl of ramen. It is a beautiful thing. When you find an excellent one, the appreciation in your heart can overflow like the flavors that bowl delivers. There was a movie starring the late great Brittany Murphy called Ramen Girl. In it, there was a ramen that would make people cry, as if the sadness of the maker connected to the sadness of the diner and took it away somehow, lovingly, and gently. While I saw the movie as an obvious caricature, there is something to that idea of carrying a connection through these savory bowls of art. Photo by Cody Chan on Unsplash  Over the weekend I had the privilege of attending a ramen class. To call it "learning how to make ramen" is perhaps too strong. One class of ramen making is like finding an ice cube on a frozen ground. The ice beneath that is connected to that lone cube is the size of the continent of Antarctica. That contrasts one class of ramen making and the vast knowledge contained within. This class teaches Japanese cooki...

  I sure do! In fact, stories happen to be how I communicate regularly. It is interesting though that back in the 70s when my Mom would take my sisters Brooke and Amy and me to the library on a midweek night, I would always choose reference books. My pre-digital need for the internet I suppose. Assimilation of information has always been a reward for me. On a recent gloomy Saturday, Donna and I went to the local used book store. I am always on the hunt for May Pang's book Loving John, an incredibly detailed account of a year and a half of one of the most creative periods of the life of John Lennon. The book has been out of print for decades, so it is hard to find for under $100. Like always, it was not there. From there, I go to the food section. Cookbooks are great and all, but it would have to be exceptional for me to let one take up space on my kitchen shelf. This I do not find either. I do know however, there is a small spring of refreshing source of information that can quench...

 Within me lies a great desire to allow people to take back their lives. Since the end of the Second World War, there has been a war of a different kind and we as individuals, families, and society all together are losing. The OP4 whispered their way into the kitchens of women like Margaret Anderson, June Cleaver, Donna Reed, and those like them. They used soothing words of praise and comfort for weary wives and moms who worked harder than anyone acknowledged, at least for another 30 to 40 years.  There was an A&P Market in Forestville, Connecticut that we used to shop at around 1970-ish. Not too many aisles, and hardwood floors, and my goodness, at any moment, I was always expecting to see Mr. Whipple guarding the Charmin display. Poor man. He took his responsibility so seriously. He must be turning in his grave every time that stupid bear commercial airs now. The dumbed-down vernacular that it is. The reason that there were not so many middle aisles in the stores back th...

  I was asked to provide a lunch for a group of executives where I work. With nine people attending, they would be ready to eat around 1:00 PM on a Thursday afternoon. I did not hesitate when I was asked if this was something that I would be willing to do.  I knew that I was capable. Almost a week went by before I received an official ask from the president of our company if I would provide this lunch.  I casually stepped up with a cool, "I could do that." For the last 4 weeks on Fridays, I have produced a light lunch for 12-16 people in the office without any previous notice. Because of that, for some people, it was lunch, for others a snack, and for others something to take home for dinner. From gourmet popcorn, Korean street toast, lomein, and fried rice, I have had the opportunity to share with coworkers. It has been fun for me, for them, and overall a great life experience for all. In 2019, I cooked at 2 summer lunchtime cookout events, with up to 165 people attendin...

 The General is coming. This is an announcement I have heard many times. From the moment these words were spoken, intensive repetition commenced. Hours of duplicating every step taken, every word shouted, every head turn and every order to present arms. It was out of this, that a large group of many would become one synchronized machine. Every heel hitting the ground would sharply thunder. Every move made would snap with precision. Words became one voice. The General would arrive, and in a 60-second choreographed production, the hours of work would meet their goal. He expected nothing less. Nothing could ever go wrong. This is the art and curse of Drill and Ceremony. I have pulled my fair share of fire-guard too. In a military barracks, no one dies in a fire because there is never a chance for the fire to go undetected. Beginning at 9 PM, 1-hour shifts begin, in which one person per floor is assigned to walk the halls, making sure that no dangers arise as the rest of the unit sleep...

 Remember those wonderful Bob Ross shows we used to watch on PBS? When Bob decided that the scene needed some "happy little trees" in the background, he seemingly waved the brush over the canvas with a scribble motion and the trees came to life. It was always a joy to watch.  I never aspired to paint,  sparing myself from wondering if I could reach such a pinnacle. But there were things in my life that I did wish to achieve such proficiency.  Playing guitar was one of those things, but the time commitment that takes is significant. The last time I had that kind of time was in 1986. I am ok with this. In fact, I feel I am not done with that side of my creativity. In 1999, in Junction City, Kansas I experienced my first most amazing meal ever. As I sat there with five of my friends, I never imagined that I could reach any kind of culinary achievement. Three years later, on a completely different planet, I set out to make my first spinach artichoke dip. This Saturday-ki...

 It's coming from the feel That it ain't exactly real Or it's real, but it ain't exactly there -Leonard Cohen, Democracy 1992 It has been like that lately. There are many points of focus and there are distractions too. Echos of Another Earth seem normal these days. I hesitated to make popcorn one day because I knew where that could lead. I knew it needed to be done, and that symbolically, it represents my whole business plan.  Like Ike and Tina knocking out Proud Mary, it starts out nice and easy, and then...well you know. I heard others talk about it. They got their cooking out into the open and then it took on a life of its own. I acknowledge that what I have is just a small flame that could easily be blown out with a gust of wind, and I also understand that it could start a wildfire. It is the escalation that I want to understand. I know that in any undiscovered country, there are things that simply do not count. It is through the making of simple mistakes that the g...