A bit poetic isn't it?
As soon as
Yesterday I couldn't take it anymore. I went to my garden and kicked at the snow, thinking I might be lucky and find some tasty edibles left over from Summer's Bounty. I did
Stripping Food to its Essence
ave a wall of cheeses from all over the world, and while I've been in there before, I had never thought to ask about the caramel cheese because I had given up on ever finding it. But for some reason, this day, I walked over to the cheese counter and told the chef there my story. I thought I sounded pretty foolish starting out my inquiry with, "When I was a little girl..." but to my utter dismay, when I finished my description, he smiled at me, walked over to the top shelf, grabbed a hard cube of brown cheese and placed it in my hands. I looked down and read the label: Ekte Gjetost, Goat Cheese, Cooked until Caramelized, Norway. I looked at him with my mouth open, looked down at the cheese, and looked back up at him. "This is it!" I said. "This is it!" I looked back down at the cheese and the tears started flowing then. I couldn't help it. I tried to hold it back, but tears ran out of my eyes and down my cheeks. "I'm sorry," I said. "I can't believe I'm crying. I don't know why I'm crying. It's just that I've been looking for this for so long." He smiled and said, "It's okay, it happens more often than you think." I wiped my tears, thanked him and went to the check out counter to pay for my items: an apple, a Delicata squash, a yam, a loaf of just baked German Pumpernickel, and my block of Ekte Gjetost, Goat Cheese, Cooked until Caramelized, Norway.
e the soup to feed to everyone present at her birth. You could say it was the celebration meal we sometimes hear about in other cultures. After the baby was born, I got it out of the freezer and heated it up and at 6:20 am, we all had a hot bowl of homemade pumpkin soup. Before I ate it, I wasn't too excited about pumpkin soup. I'd had versions before and I wasn't expecting much, but it was absolutely delightful. I know it sounds strange, but we were all starving (maybe from being up half the night) and it just tasted so good. I ate mine in a ceramic bowl that Sarah made herself (I told you she is amazing). It had a couple chips on the edges, but I think it made the soup taste better because I knew the bowl was well loved. After we ate our soup, I was laying next to Sarah on her bed, admiring her gorgeous baby and she turned to me and said, "Labor wasn't that bad." I wonder if the soup had anything to do with it.