Breaking out of the System

It amazes me that people judge each other, for actions, that have no relation to their own personal well being. What it is that makes a person go out of their way to tell another how to live? The answer to me is simple, those who follow the rules feel that they are in better condition to make the lives of others a stinking mess. To all the non-rule breakers, nothing is owed to you for your sinless adherence to the laws of the land. We should make you the law men and women to decide how we, the rest of the civil disobedient and non-conformists. I would appreciate a judge that has had experience outside of the pre-determined path given forth by society. The truth is, though, I cannot judge and no other can judge me or my actions. Do no harm seems simple enough, but I cannot escape the system that pervades my every action. I walk to the store to receive the gifts of earth, that have been shipped, driven, trucked and processed in order to reach my local grocery store. So I didn't drive--what are you gonna do?

The system rewards those who keep within the lines and stays the keeper of the given system. I am disturbed at the notion that many of the greatest accomplishments and advancements of our culture have been accredited to those not willing to be a slave to the system. It is like when I say, "they say." Who are they? Do they meet daily to decide our fate? or Are we just waiting to see that the only one that can truly make the difference, in our own lives--is our own self. When looking to others for permission to be a creative being we missed the point. Nobody out there is ready to accept your own shifting path throught the trials of life. Give me a man who has never made a mistake and I will show you a corpse. An uncompromised continuace of the life and death cycle. No words to go against, no beliefs to constrain one's self to and certainly no actions that work against the fact of returning to where one came from. As basic as it may seem, we are bodies of the very system that keeps us moving. We are bodies of our collective home--earth. I do not doubt that there is much more to us, but for sake of this argument, we are the earth, air, water and the flesh of plants and animals that we consume for survival.

I guess what I am trying to say, is that we as a culture must break through the doorway that leads us, not to more technology, but returns us to the system that provides life itself. Any separation from our home will take us down a road of destruction and disillusion. We have come this far to see the results of our behavior and still all change is mere speculation and statistics. Tell me something without fear written on your face. Hope is alive and there are powers that will bring us back to one, whether we realize it or not. Make a choice and live with the idea that you are taking something from another being on this god for saken planet. We all, as humans of humanity, can have a life worth living--together. Although it may be difficult at first, the system that prevails will give to all and fulfill the many. We already are one, so let's get with the truth in its simplest forms. Nature is our teacher and we are the property of this system of knowledge. There is no escape button for you or I, so it is time to live within the harmony that this earth is trying to remind us of every secong of the day. Be well and profit for the one who matters most--the heart of thine people.

It's Been a Few Months

Welcome back, I say to myself. It seems that the computer speaks my own words back to me--in proceeding type face. I listen and watch as these words are spoken, in my mind, written, in space and time, and observed as something totally separate from the man that types before them. Writing with pad and paper was always my way of knowing if I had something worthy or not. It took years to take the step from pencil to pen, for I was unsure of my ability to write in such permanent ink. What if I messed up? People would surely know when they see the scribbled out nonesense on my page. I would much prefer the little goobers of pink eraser marks.

In life the pen is not the answer anymore-it is the key pad and updated internet connection...faster, more accessible and at the very least, an attention grabber. Ink is not permanent and erased pencil lead cannot hide the feelings that if I were to write down the wrong answer, then I would see myself as a failure. The pen was scary, it took confidence and no matter what was there to see, there was no turning back. An attempt to cross-out might show the reader exactly how frustrating it is to see what one has done and wish it were gone. I regress to a time where there was no delete button and time was real time, not virtual and separate. To be connected through lines of electronic means has taken us from connected as human to human, to a much differect beast. This one can only speak in clever tones, without facial expression and tone of voice. Anything can be misinterpreted because we judge words on a screen and leave the faces for the faceless.

I think that I might go and find a pencil, to sketch out the rest of my life. Don't worry the eraser marks will be a sign to you all that I am yet to figure it all out. It only I could erase the very nature of my personality that seeks only to destroy my best of intentions. Damn, I wore through the page. Does anyone have a clean slate to start right now over? Torn pages and pencils with flattened erasers will only bring me to a better place, a place where I can accept the words that I have spoken and the scribes that do keep track of all that I am.

I Blog

This blog thing has been fun. Thanks for all of your support. I will not be blogging for a while. I need a vacation from writing on this thing.

I just ate a piece of pizza

Twitter blog post now. It was cheesy and had sunflower seeds on it. Although they called it Hawaiian, there wasn't quite enough pineapple on it. I can't forgive them for that. My mouth asks for sweetness within the salty pork flats.

I don't think that I could ever get rid of pork in my diet. I just love the Hawaiian pizza too much. This piece that I had tonight was good, but not simple good. Keep the ingredients simple with a simple design, like canadian bacon and pineapple.

Food Without Rules

Do you know how frustrating it is to live in such an instructional world. We live by unwritten rules that show up in the recipes of our lives. It must be done this way, they say. I ask them who decides my way? They respond with the same comment as before.

I want to develope a creative allowance in the world of food. We make what we intuit from the ingredients in the fridge and the pantry. I say break the rules in your own way. They weren't there to get you closer to your best, but to re-create someone else's best.

The French put an over-medium cooked egg on a pizza. I thought that this was impossible, until I had one slice of yolky fulfillment. Then I thought, how stupid can I be? The egg and cheese bagel sandwich has been a favorite for years. Our beliefs on the way that things should be--should be let go, for what is right here and waiting to be experienced.

Bring Back the Buffalo

Stop buying so much beef. We can create a market for Buffalo and reintroduce this lands heart and wisdom. The buffalo are greatly respected among the first nation people. Grandfather Buffalo teaches us how to live within Great Spirits realm with integrity and honor.

We can change things, not with technology, but the true and natural way that North American has been in centuries lost to invention and not intention. Slow down and seek what is already there. The Earth our Earth shares all that it is with us and for the most part we just take. Give back by allowing the Spirit of Buffalo to return to the grass lands and make this land sacred again.

Right now, grocery stores have buffalo sections. Support this lean and soulfully filling meat. It cooks quick, digests well, and brings your spirit back in time, when the resources outweighed the gains. Money took priority to the life of the land and we killed off one of our greatest food supplies. Bring them back, imagine herds and herds stopping drum and bass beats in your dreams.

The Voice of Food

Another bite swallows the words from my mouth. Silence was a good sign, that salivary glands instead of voice boxes filling the space. I don't know what food has to say back, but smack smack swish and curl.

What of the crying last words of our beloved vegatables, as they enter the end of their life cycle, stopping only when they reach the groud again. And soon, new growth takes form and life is continued. If my purpose was to feed souls, I would become the nutrient and the action would perpetuate my life through another being.

There is death to the world every day and because of that we are allowed to change and find the voice that feeds. I may start talking to my food. The journey was long and refrigerated, flash frozen and baked along the way, so I pay omage to the gift that it does bring.

All the screaming local produce, telling us to please be near and be here. The driving trucks and commuters pass by as the vegatables trip to your plate took longer than your last vacation. Good thing that they are best served cold. Pick what, where and eat it? Pick it up at the farm where the same bees that buzz in your face are pollenating the crops in your neighbors back yard.

The voice of food is calling to you to be rooted in your surroundings, and understand that this will be how we support each other. I say safe travels to you, the cargo will soon become your body.

How to write a menu?

What is the question that every Mother isn't ready for after a day at work, "What's for dinner Moms?" Hungry bellies dominate in households around tis country. Everybody is too busy for coming together of dinner. Work, Practice, Study this Study that and all we are left with is an empty house--full of people.

I don't know if anyone has experienced living with a group of people, but you never really spent the time to get to know them. It's sad and I've been there, just looking for a full belly. How could I have given this time to the food alone, in my aloneness?

At least the food brings the family together, for whatever it is. Time in front of the TV, venting about work, preaching politics-like they were more important than family, right now. Family is all around you.

The menu is in the making, remember the good times and re-create them in a new way. Start with what puts a smile on everyone's face. Next get some piece of kitchen utensil in the hand of all hungry mouths present. Dishes can be just as bonding. The final step is to be spontaneous and say the first thing that comes to mind. We take too much ownership of what we say, let it out, be honest and just let it out.

Steel Cut Oats

Oatmeal was kind of a mushy mess. It made me feel as if I were a farm animal ready to feed in the troff. Paste of oats with raisins and brown sugar used to be the standard. Until I was offered some steel cut, down in Arizona a couple years ago. This was a memorable breakfast, for I also learned that eggs and rice could be a reasonable staple in tough times.

The Steel Cut have texture, meusagelatenous, dang I hope I spelled that one right, and above all, they actually look like oats. The whole food version of rolled out instant meal is satisfying with its buttery flavor. Just a pinch of sea salt brings out the butter, so you don't really need any other acoutraments.

People walk by as I eat my steel cut oats and to their surprise I haven't added sugar, fruit or some other taste enhancer. I just like the real thing, cut a few times and boiled for twenty minutes. I never measure the water, and when it boils I throw a couple handfuls of oats in there and let it do its thing. Since I am a firey person, red hair and all, I need the oaty goodness to calm my inflamed body and balance my hormones. It's nice for a BM as well. So take it easy on yourself and get the full effect of the steel cut.

Baked Beans

Damn I love me some baked beans. When I was a kid, my Dad would make bake bean on toast sandwiches, that wasn't so great, but then again, I think it was the soggy bread's fault. Speaking of that, it isn't just a texture thing, but a mooshy lack of flavor too. Bread pudding is to die for, on the right occasion. It may look iffy so make sure its all that your heart desires by adding coconut milk and plenty of cinnamon.

I try not to tangent and that is all I do. If there were no such thing as procrastination, I wouldn't get shit done. I really started this to talk about baked beans-it seems they speak for themselves. Old Popeye the Sailor Man, was more full of beans than spinach. I bought a can of spinach at the store the other day...Ayy ayy ayy. What I really needed was the first vegetarian baked beans of the BBQ season and man did I get a serious BM today.

Memorial Day is a holiday for the veterans. I say its for the beans. Imagine all those WWII vets back in the tranches spooning cans of beans for their survival. You might get sick of them for an in between season. Just wait until the sunny hunger comes and chips and dips don't do the trcks. Fill up on some baked bean, hot or cold, either way they have such a summer time appeal, that my holiday took a shift for the better once I got a mouthful of our brown little sugary friends.

Eat Beans and Clean Out the Means-soon enough.

Grilled Cheese & Tomato Soup

How healing can this youthful lunch be? Anything hot and melty is usually the bomb, so what is it about cheddar and tomato? When I was about six years old, the neighbor kid came over and put ketchup on his grilled cheese sandwich. I thought that my friend Jon was crazy and that I would ruin my sandwich if I followed suit. I was wrong, this was the greatest thing and then all of the sudden came visions of tomato soup and open faced sandwiches with a fresh slice of tomato. It all came clear, there was much more to this relationship.

Ketchup on french fries will always be the greatest, but now I have another greatest. Crisp, buttery, and oozing with dairy goodness, just the right amount of ketchup will make or break your lunch. Don't be messy, but get enough to last. Ketchup has toatoes in it I am told. Well, I didn't believe that either. It doesn't taste like a tomato off the branch, and definitely doesn't taste like spagetti sauce, so what's the deal?

The amount of sugar we get from ketchup in America over the span of one year could cover this desk, for one person. I heard a guy say the other day that he was putting extra ketchup on his breakfast, because of the licopene. I looked at his belly and thought that might spoil his plan of good heart health. Not to be mean, but ketchup should be eaten as a condiment not as the full course. French fries and grill cheese are kid's food groups and ketchup right along with these two should be limited to keep ketchup a flavor enhancer instead of the only desirable flavor. Heal thyself of this ketchup addiction, but don't give it up completely. It is just too good for that.

Avocados & the Sun

This weekend was filled with endless walking. We hit the lake trail on friday and kept walking. It was so perfect that we didn't want to turn around, so we didn't. As we cruised the shore of lake Washington, in St. Edwards Park, every twist of the trail opened up to the most beautiful spot, unique and worth sitting with for a few minutes. Every new place seemed like an arrival to our final destination.

The moment pressed hard on our sunbaked bodies. And we continued through what felt like a magical garden, shady and fresh as cool oxygen can be. This is where we lost our course and ended up in somebody's back yard. After walking the streets of this neighborhood and searching for trails back to the Park, we hit couple dead ends and finally found our way to Jaunita Dr. and to safe ground.

Now we had a new mission. Avocados and some cool water would bring us back from our dehydrated three and a half hour tour. Our skin had been our great defense against the sun. We may have dried up, but our skin has a layer of fats cells in the derma, which is the second layer below the surface of the skin. The fat content in the avovados would rejuevenate our skin and then when we downed the fluids, all would be well.

The avocado was sliced and made its way to a pizza with jalepenos, garlic and pesto. The heat of the hot pepper needed to be balanced with the avocado, as this was the theme to the green fatty fruit. I didn't think about it before, but you could take the scrapings off of the avocado's skin and rub it on your own--smooth and creamy dream.

The Perfect Burrito

Get this, a burrito can be anything wrapped into a tortilla. You could make a tuna fish burrito or you can get real with the real deal. In my mind there is only one burrito out there and its bomb. First you take a tomato tortilla and steam that thing. Take a 1/2 cup of lime-cilantro rice and a good cup full of whole black beans full of the cumin richness. You can lay the beans on the rice but no need to mix them or to separate them into columns. Next comes the grilled chicken that has been marrinating over night in Marsala cooking wine. Cut it into cubes and once again lay it on top of the pile. I should have said earlier to center the pile in the middle of the flat, open faced tortilla. Throw a handful of cheddar and mozzarella. Smear a spatuala of sour cream blended with chipotle peppers on the nearest side to you. This will keep it from spitting out when its time to roll. The salsa is essential and I think a salsa fresca and a hot tomatillo are the best. Leave out the lettuce because its consistency is better suited for tacos. Wrap some lettuce in a hot and steaming burrito and taste the wilted warm and crunchy lettuce ruin the wrap.

To wrap it up take both sides and fold them into the middle. The edges do not need to touch and you should pay attention to how the pile is stacked up. We are looking to roll up a cylinder shape-not a box or Christmas present taped up by a five-year old. Now you can fold the side closest to you over the pile of goodness to where it almost touches the farthest edge. Tuck the front edge on the under side of the far edge of the pile. This is to contain the ingredients when you make your final move. By adding the slightest pressure you will put your thumbs on the front side with your fingers wrapped around the back side holding that edge your just tucked and a turn of the wrists forward pushing the thumbs forward while curling the fingers towards you. To hold it together grab both ends and give it a little squeeze to plump and stretch out the burrito creating a seal between the tortilla and its fillings.

Put the burrito on a piece of alluminum foil and roll it up. Twist both ends of the foil and gently drop one end on the table. If you do this correctly your burrito will stand on end so that you can peel the top side of the foil as you work your way down the burrito. Too much drippage at the bottom will make for what we call a waterfall burrito and all will fall apart in the end-what a mess. If you have the skills, you probably don't even need the foil. That thing will stand on end without leaking a bean-that will come with digestion.

I am Busy Writing Not Eating

I love the life of a writer. I watched my father sit at the computer and write books. There is pride in accomplishment, but what is the cost? A loss of a connection to the family. The document is more important. This is the one, boy, we are going to be rich. I would have rather something else mattered than your ego's development Dad. The attention I got was being told in a controling manner who I was to be. When I started cooking in High School, it was met with so much bull-shit. I was going no where, well, I didn't plan on it. I wanted to be independent like my big sister, but I needed people more than she.

The funny thing is that I have cooked deliciousness that my Dad would have never tasted if I hadn't gained the skills that I was good at and enjoyed. That guy should have put down the pen and paper and taken on a cooking class-for the rest of our sakes. I am writing right now thinking about food, but I don't or haven't been giving it much time. This is a paradox in my life, to help feed those around me or to do some homework. I will sigh now as if writing about food is good enough to feed me. My hunger grows and now I don't want to prepare anything.

Maybe I will print this out and eat it for dinner.

Last Night Felt like Monday

The BBQ came out of nowhere. Rain everywhere and a chill wind bit my ass all over the place. I can handle the rain, but bring the bitter wind and I am not as much of a tough guy as I thought. So yeah, my friend had some chicken thighs and lamb leg cuts. A quick marinate of fresh garlic, ginger, cinamon, cayenne and a splash of IPA brew. Rice and black beans were thought to be the side, and when I say side, I mean middle. After we grilled the meat, which was great because we were right by the basement door so all that delicious meaty aroma could fill the halls and to keep dry, brrr.

Once in the kitchen, we had some delays. The onions and mushrooms hadn't been sauted and the vibe was very conflicting. Too many chicken heads in the kitchen. Just get out of my way I would think and then when I would try to move with flow--I would find more obstacles. I had to get out of there to find myself again. Knock Knock...dinners ready I gotta steal you for a few. I felt that I had been stolen from myself.

As I served up all the fixins, which turned out to be mixins, a seat at the table was presented to me. I felt all the tension of the day and my doormates hadn't calmed down yet either. This school can hold a lot of tension, stress and exhaustion. All this leads to is more separation and unhealthy environments. I sat staring at my food and then the TV, I could not eat, my stomach was in a knot.

While in my trance, I did not desire food, all I wanted was peace. This reminded me of growing up and playing with my broccoli and mash potatoes until the scene looked oh so natural. Last night I realized that I wasn't hungry because of the stress at the table. After a few minutes my family would have had a chance to cut throught the pleasant bull-shit and busy their minds on their forks. Ahh yeas, time to eat-- with my fingers, of course.

Bio Psych

Today we talked about how some people are "super tasters" in Biological Psychology. We learned that flavor is a combination of the taste and the aroma. I never really knew the difference. Super tasters have the ability to distinguish different flavors to the degree that they may even be tasting the flavor in your dish--across the room! Kidding, I think that I want to be a super taster, but unfortunately I learned that our senses degenerate over the years. I will choose to believe that all of my senses are being refined and specialized for the future.

My Magical Birthday Cake

A year ago, I was thinking how a birthday cake can be a healing symbol. The absense of it can certainly be a tragedy. People are always telling me that I must know what I want and to be specific. Simplicity is the resonance of hearts in mind. I asked for a lemon cake for my 29th birthday and my wishes were instantly rejected. No, no, anything but lemon cake. Now, I was trying to defend my choice and soon I compromised myself--again. A few days later, I had moved through my whole birthday without a cake. The promise was empty, something else stirred from within. I missed the time and the intention of my family and old friends. The disappointment was once again, that I had not been listened to, especially when I was direct and knew what I wanted.

This year was a filled with connection to all my people in Seattle. I set out yesterday to celebrate my 30th birthday with everyone who crossed my path. I said hello, slapped high and low fives, waved and shook hands. My purpose was to break down the barriers that keep us from enjoying our time and place together. Many smiled and some gave the stink eye, laughs outweighed any negative vibes and people changed right before me. From noon to midnight, we played frizbee, walked around, ate and drank and soaked that sun like it was pure dopamine. I realized that the more people that I loved and accepted on just a basic human level reaching ever towards the spiritual, I had no reason for pain. Separation got the best of us. It will take but a few aukward moments to create the connection that we all so desire. The wall is put up, thoughts of conspiracy and alternative motives passes by their eyes and all that they feel is right now, as we are together. Then a quick good-bye and have a great night and on to the next passer by. The funniest thing was that people thought I was either trying to get in their pants or sell them something. When that wasn't the case, they actually trusted that their were no strings attached. If you want to move on with your day, please extend your hand, shake and the both of us will be on our way.

After meeting and greeting what must have been in the hundreds, I was a little spent. We walked to my friends apartment and baked a lemon cake. It was late, and this was going to be from scratch, which meant that we had to make a quick trip to the store for some safflower oil. At about two in the morning, the candles lit surrounded by such goodness. I was filled with warmth and felt my special day had now only one thing left, the wish. I know we aren't supposed to talk about it, but when it was time it came right to me.

The Lemon Cake was presented on an antique plate of familial importance and this mass of love on top was putting off a vibration that would make crying heart bleed. Tears of joy along with a lite whipped frosting. I always knew that you have to love your food. This was different, this lemon cake had come to life, had animated not only myself, but the room and the experience of the day. I was now thirty and it was OK. Thanks Smoosh.

Ginger Pear Sauce

Years ago while at Birkebeiner Brewry, I learned to make a BBQ sauce. It was a simple sauce with all the basics: ketchup, vinegar, worshishires sauce, and onions. This time I replaced the onions with fresh grated ginger and bartlette pears. The sweatness had a burning desire for chicken breasts and so we bought two free range and two organic breasts to see what the difference between these two labels. The free range breasts were bigger, but seemed to be pumped full of hormones. The organic breasts were small with a healthy looking color of fleshy white. This was not a serious research idea, more of a taste test. And the winner was--the sauce. Getting caught up into all the details of one's meat, causes a political conflict about what is better, based on all angles of how the chicken was raised, the feed eaten, to what kinds of chemicals still reside in your breast. Where is the love of the food that is here to be appreciated and eaten. We create eating disorders out of our constant infatuation with what we really want. What I want is bad, and what I need is good. My body decides much more than I do what it needs and therefore, I want to eat an organic breast over a free range. Two choices that are considered within any conscious food debate. The life of the chicken, becomes the life of me. How I relate to my food is how I relate to myself. If I am whiling to take in something less than my highest potential, then I will not consider the consequences of my diet. On the other side, if I am too far concerned with what I ingest, am I allowing myself to be a part of what and who is around me? I like questions more than answers. The way I create my world depends very much on what questions I have been asking myself lately. Right now, I would like to ingest a healthy and happy chicken. In the movie, Baraka, they showed a chicken factory, with all the little chickies being thrown around, with their beeks burnt off, and living within an overpopulated cage. I have been eating these chikcen my whole life. I am not ready to give up chicken, but will certainly look to support a more sustainably conscious chicken farm with its practices considerate of all that may be effected by the treatment of our food.

Chilli Cook Off

Yeah, it was my idea weeks ago. When I brought it up people laughed. Who doesn't like chilli I thought? After three reschedules, the day finally arrived and I wasn't prepared. My plan all along had been to make Black Bean and Bison Chilli, but time was running out and I didn't think QFC had the ground Bison. In my previous searches, I didn't see it in the meat cooler. I was beginning to worry that I would need to think up a new recipe when I asked my friend if she had ever seen the Bison and she told me that it was in the freezer section. The plan was saved and shortly later I was thawing and cutting onions. It feels so right when all the ingredients fall together without effort. I saged the Bison, cumined the black beans and carmalized the onions. I learned from a chef that if you cook onions on low heat, it breaks down the cell wall, but retains the form of the cut. It also takes the stress away from possibly burning them, so if you have the time, let them sizzle slowly.

The competition was fierce and creative. My good friend grilled pears with ground lamb. All the nuitrients the body needs are within these two ingredients. He would have definitely won the competition, if only he would have combined the two. All the other ingredients diluted the perfect marinate, as the flavor was spread throughout. There were a couple chicken chillis that were bland and before I went back for seconds, my chilli was gone. I was pleased and felt like I had provided everyone with a new chilli experience. Many at the cook-off had never eaten Bison, which I highly recomment. It is much leaner than beef and digests easier too. My belly has a wholeness, a connection to the rest of me that it makes me wonder what it was like a couple hundred years ago along the plains. Bison BBQ everyday, and then no more. It is sad, but if we could clear our obsession with beef, the buffalo would come back to their homeland.

I don't want to say that I won, because I am trying to be modest. I forgot the one ingredient that would have wowed them all, water chestnuts. I have found that the texture doesn't go limp and the crunch adds what the onions could not. Dice them and add them to anything that needs something different and people will exlaim what is in this dish. They probably won't believe that something so flavorless can bring such variety to a dish. Oh yeah, and always spice up your chilli, heat wise, or it will be a turn off for those enticed taste buds. Just enough, not too much or you will burn those buds into submission.

Friday Night

So I went to a dinner party last night. At first, I didn't really want to do much in the way of helping to prep. Earlier in the day I got head butted playing B-ball. I got a fat bloody lip, it actually made me look pretty tough. When we went to the grocery store, I checked out before everyone else, so I sat near the entrance, patiently. The people walking by me had all kinds of reactions to my face. It looked like I just left a fight. Some people shook their heads and others held a grin that put me at ease. Even the checker treated me with kindness. I was not angry at the person who smacked me, I let it all out by venting, no no screaming explitives. I positioned myself on a stool, at the kitchen counter, for it seemed an appropriate stance-much like a boxer between rounds. Once the cobb webbs cleared from my head, I set out to help cooking the meat. We were having beef, shrimp and fish tacos. My skills on the sautee' pan aren't to shabby, so I took over the task. I had forgotten how much fun it is to flip and toss the sizzling goods. Explaining to everyone there that the biggest mistake that people make is to over cook the meat. I realized that it wasn't a matter of cooking the meat until done, but the important thing was to cut the heat right before its done. This worked especially well with the shrimp. Those little curly creatures popped in the mouth and weren't rubbery at all. I don't always think of the temperature of the food when I pull it off the heat. That sustaining internal heat continues to cook delicate foods for a short time after. Things like eggs and seafood, need extra attention and the opportunity to blossom in their own goodness.

Something about Food

I like to eat food. It is good. It fills my belly. I eat more. Then, I eat until I am more full. Since this food is just passing by as quickly as my digestive system can process it, I must continue to eat, daily. What will I eat next?

Damn, this is a lot of work. I used to just eat food and now I write about it. I wanted to use this post to philosophize about our connection to food, but I need it to be more of a conversation. What do you think? I know there are foods that will make you turn in your grave for just one more taste, one more morsel of mouth feel. The saliva is dripping from the sides of my mouth and I haven't even said anything about a specific food.

If we could take this to a grade school level, I was wondering what is the one food that you could not live without?

My favorite food is the burrito. I worked at a burrito shop back in highschool. At the time I was working at a microbrewry named the Birkebeiner Brewry, I don't know about the name, but it was a great first job. The dirty dishes were plenty. One day I was riding my bike around town thinking that I had the day off and my buddy and I stopped by the brewry to get some of that crackrock-delicious Mr. Pibb. To my adolescent surprise, I was scheduled to work. I thought to myself, "you are fucking kidding-right?" Who knows, if I would have missed my shift, I might have been fired.

The owner was there this fateful afternoon. He walked up to me, while I was still in shock about having to put in eight hours of sludgery. As usual, I expected him to call me a slack-ass or some other confidence building words of encouragment and instead, he offered me a cooking/burrito making job at his new place, Slickrock Burrito. Of course I said yes and I even offered to do some recruiting at school. To help business, he wanted some pretty girls to apply. Without hesitation I offered to do some serious recruiting for him--ooo ooo, a twitter update, I just had a drink of beer, mmmmm, oh yeah.

He wanted me to find some girls that weren't afraid to get their hands dirty and clean out the grease trap every once in a while. I assured him that the girls I had in mind would get the job done. I was so full of shit. These girls wouldn't even touch a dirty dish, but they brought in the business and every time they smiled, that tip jar filled up. One of the girls wore shorts so short that when she put on an apron, it looked like she wasn't wearing anything at all. I think she is a lawer now.

We had our grand opening, advertising free buritos on the south hill. The line practically went around the block. This place was on the map instantly. The burritos were the best burritos in the universe at this time and people wanted more. Husbands were sneaking out to get a burrito fix. Minutes later, the wives of these same husbands were there, not to catch a fool in the act, but to get their fix too. I will give you all the details of the best burrito in a later post, for now I must finish this beer and chill.

A Brief Intro

Thoughts and feelings evolve around what foods we choose to put into our bodies. Have you ever been reminded of past connections with foods? I know I have. It is true that the smell of certain foods will take you right back to a memory of eating this food. Science has proven that the strongest trigger for memories, is through the olfactory nerve which controls our sense of smell. I am not trying to get into neuroscience, but the olfactory nerve lies directly above the limbic system, which is where we process our emotions. Visually, we are filtering a large portion of what we see, because otherwise we would be overwhelmed by so much stimulation. With our sense of smell, we cannot simply look away. Once the scent has triggered the limbic system, we instantly react to the memory, as if it were happening right now. Our bodies physiological response, thoughts and emotions, mirror that of the past experience. The smell of food takes us into a reality that is not really happening, but is being displayed, as a real time felt resoponse. Now imagine that there is a visual within your mind, almost like a film reel playing out in your head. Can you picture this memory developing? Now you are about to take that first, bite. Wait, where are you and how is this food going to heal you today?

My idea is that through our cravings and aversions to food, we are replaying part of our life and the mindbody does not know the difference. We experience emotions, thoughts, postures and maybe even personalities, that are a product of the past experience, just on scent alone. Our food is here and we are off in the past processing and in a way unconscious of what is happening now. Every meal is a healing opportunity. Establish new meaning to your life by being aware of what your connections to food actually do for you. Have fun creating memories based on the present experience, and watch as your world opens to the many possibilities of food, music and dance. Bring soul to your food and vibrate with the soulful rhythms in your life.