It is one in the morning. A glass of cheap wine and a scrumptious midnight snack accompany me: a voluptuous Shiraz and a generous slice of warm, hearty whole grain loaf slathered with blackberry jam, my favorite. “Ave Maria” is playing on surround sound speakers, and I am sinking into plush couch cushions, feeling relaxed and untroubled. This is the sort of contentment that can only found in solitude, and it is especially satisfying because I have a hard time being alone these days. (Now I’m listening to Smetana; it’s funny how the music actually sounds slavic.)
Before sleep takes hold, I want to mark this as the start to a hopefully long stream of entries in which I share bits of my life and my food, two nearly synonymous concepts. I hope to share recipes that are tried and true favorites, others that are taken at random from the mountains of cookbooks lining my shelves and littering my floor, and even some that are (deep breath in) original. I hope to branch out and write about my progress with foreign languages, plans for extended travel, my feats and failures. I hope to write whatever comes to mind, comes from the heart, and speaks to the stomach. I hope to entice appetites. I hope to amuse, entertain, evoke, and even mildly inspire.
A toast (tehe) to a true beginning!