The classic cheese and jams began the night. I chose St.Andre for its texture and creaminess. It is a wonderful triple cream blend of cow, goat and sheep milks. I brought out my neighbor's homemade raspberry jam and store bought pear preserves. Although I love my neighbor's jarring abilities, the pear proved the best flavor with this particular cheese.
The main dish, however, was a mind-blowing, orgasmic-screaming delicious! And I don't mean to toot my own horn -- but toot! toot! on this one, because it was phenomenal. First I took free-range, organic chicken breasts and sliced them open in the middle -- creating a pocket for stuffing. I filled the little chicken pouches with garlic, ricotta cheese and diced up marinated artichoke hearts. I then rubbed the outside of the breasts in thyme and sumac. I placed these in tin foil with a drizzle of olive oil and slow cooked in the oven for about forty minutes. Once the chicken was nearly done, I put capollini in a pot to boil and got to work on the sauce. For the sauce I had made a pesto mix earlier with fresh basil, garlic, lime, romano and pine nuts. In a sauce pan I first sauteed butter, diced hot chorizo, rosemary picked from the garden, and garlic. To this I added diced tomatoes, the pesto, and a small amount of cream. I ground just a touch of fresh cumin and of course, salt and pepper. Here is this dish when it finally came together: chicken breast atop a bed of capollini, with the sauce delicately poured on top and garnished with a basil chiffonad.
I invited Mom and Aunt Jenny to partake in the fabulous dinner with me, and together we all indulged in food, wine, and laughter. I needed their support more than anything and they gave it freely, as they always do, and in abundance. I didn't talk much about how it feels to have not landed the position I'd hoped for, invested so much in, and thought so positively that I'd gotten. Mostly, I just wanted to enjoy their company, and not break down into tears. What I needed more, was a terrific distraction.
Today, however, the feelings have been creeping in on me slowly. I began finding it difficult to motivate my inner strengths into doing much more than lying in bed. When the tears did finally begin to come, I resolved to pick myself up and go weed the garden. What good soul work it is to dig your hands into the dirt. It's such a great place to work out your emotions, both your failures and your gains. I especially enjoy when I can take a giant weed by the base and pull out a large, satisfying clump of root and soil.
Back to the chopping block. The biggest challenge for me now, I think, will be in not succumbing to feelings of failure that seek to become permanent members of my identity. I CAN make the life for myself that I've wanted, it's just going to be hard for a while. Maybe the time will be a blessing; if I use it right, it can be a great opportunity to work on growing as a writer.
No comments:
Post a Comment