foodwriting

Finding the Moments

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Has it ever occurred to you that there is a opposite version of triggers?

By “triggers” I mean the actual psychological definition of the word, by the way. It’s not a synonym for “offended” or “thing that makes me angry.” Triggers in psychology are the things that cause negative reactions and flashbacks in people who have experienced trauma– not unlike why veterans with PTSD might get uneasy at the sound of gunshots or fireworks. If you insist on using the word with a sneer at people whose politics you don’t like or as a joke, you might want to consider the life-altering magic of growing up and having empathy.

Little things that pop up unexpectedly that cause feelings of safety, warmth, and joy on the other hand are apparently called “glimmers”- and I’ve been doing my best to recognize them in my life. The last few days have been full of them, and I wanna tell you about it.

Spruce tips! A little too small for harvesting yet, but soon…
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Up and Down- Chasing Vibes and Riding the Curve

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I used to be a little smug about not drinking coffee. When you’re a weird, obnoxious kid trying to find out who you are, it’s often easier to find definitions based on what you’re not. In my case, I wasn’t “one of those coffee shop people.” I had a massive collection of tea in my cabinets at college for any reason and any taste. My friends jokingly called me a “tea shaman,” and if I really needed caffeine? That’s why God invented energy drinks.

As I write this 16 years later, sitting in a coffee shop with an empty cappuccino at my right hand, I can tell you I’m still not a coffee guy. I’m drinking a vibe… it just happens to be coffee based. “A man who can laugh at himself shall never cease to be amused.”

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A Menu of Memories

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It’s almost 7pm, and I’m sitting at a two-top at the Horse Brass. I’m trying to think of what to write again, nursing a locally-made Baltic Porter and staring at the empty broiler boat that- until very recently- was holding about 8 pickle spears for $3.50. No sales tax.

Where else would I be now? I’m a beer nerd with a cloak on a rainy day in Portland near Mount Tabor. I’ve got the back half of a short week at the bakery to start tomorrow morning, the blessing of my boss, and ideas for how my weekend will go. Where else would I be but here?

I might be back in Jersey. That beer might be a more expensive local brew, but those pickles might have been the Pickle Plates at Downbeach Deli that still live in my memory- their selection of greyed full-sours and perky green half-sour pickles supporting recurring guest stars of Pickled Onion, a Cherry Pepper, and a few wedges of Green Tomato atop a pool of commingled brine. That is, if they were ever separated at all.

Maybe it’s the beer and time of year, but I can feel the rose-colored Nostalgia Glasses settling into place. I’m gonna tell you about some fond food memories.

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“No Man is an Island”- An Introvert Outs Himself as a Social Butterfly

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If anyone had asked me before I became a writer, I would have immediately marked myself as an introvert. I liked my quiet time, being alone, and going inside my own head.

I still do, for the record. I am definitely have an introverted streak and I like to refer to myself as “running out of people minutes” or having “peopled too much” when I’m ready to go off somewhere for a little peace and quiet.

Then I started writing in restaurants, learned that the best stories come from listening and talking to other people, and now I feel bad if I don’t socialize at least a bit every day.

Humans are a social species. We are not built for complete isolation. Enjoying being alone is one thing… but no human is meant to be lonely.

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A Story About A Cake

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Last week I brought up the ins and outs of “secret” recipes- why we have them, why we might not, and how to keep recipes safe behind the law.

In writing it, I said that I am generally happy to share my recipes for a number of reasons- but that I won’t share some recipes for sentimental reasons. When I said that, I was thinking of one of my recipes in particular.

It’s a recipe that very few people outside my family know, one that I have been tweaking and trying to perfect for several years, and this is the story of why I decided I was gonna hold it close to my chest from now on.

A cake is worth a thousand words
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