JACQUELINE
It’s gloomy out, sitting at the edge of my bed staring out the window watching the melting snow patter into puddles. There isn't a lot is going on today as Mondays are mundane at best for many restaurants. For anyone who has worked in this field knows this makes the day last longer than imaginable. This weather also doesn't do me to much good setting me off into a spiral of procrastination and a quick sense of boredom. It dawns on me that I have been out here for over six months already. The slow life, the.. in the middle of nowhere life. I miss the city, any city I've ever lived in around this world for that matter. This place is to dull or is it the quiet, it scares me. It was my own choice, knowing full well I may even have forced it upon myself a bit. Rationalizing everything, then to even throw rationalization out the kitchen swing doors and say ‘fuck it’ I need some selfish ‘me time’ whatever that even means.
As I unlock the backdoor to the kitchen, trying to balance my coffee as to not spill it onto my fresh chef whites I realize that today I also have to make family meal. My phone buzzes, its a text from my mother. I miss having her around more and more the older I get, and let me tell you she can cook! I remember summer days on porches watching my Grandmother and her daughter trimming green string beans in silent bliss. Poached pears. I’ll make that for family meal today!
Dusting the bench with a flurry of flour, starting to pull away lumps of dough so as to form them for the daily bread baking. The gluten is stingy yet sticky and its smells with slight acidity. Bread, it may be the oldest form of baking in any culture, grains are milled and moisture is added then heat. Its the simplest type of food I may make on a daily bases yet, one of the most complex. Setting up a tray of quenelles like little soldiers of whipped butter with dashes of sea salt.
Nasturtium ice cream is cooling, marigold petals are picked and rinsed. I check the breads that are baking in an insanely hot oven removing the heavy lodge pan lids one by one… the aroma itself could make you face plant into every golden domed crust. Whipping some cream I set some aside for the chocolate mousse that I am about to make. Manjari chocolate, it may be my favorite and yes I could possibly be bias, but the acidic dark red fruits and citrus in this dark chocolate which originates from Madagascar is sublime. A couple almonds some greens from the garden out back and a bit of horseradish dressing. I slide the hotel pan of pasta onto the counter and place next to it a big bowl of crostini.. also my mothers port poached pears. Family meal.
As I slice into the first loaf I realize its only 5:45pm. What did I tell you, its ‘Mon-dane’. Yet, I'm content those pears where delicious, and my mother has figured out emojis.
Jacqueline is my bread starter.