Friday, March 14, 2014

nightly art



It's my favorite time of day- dinner. However the day has been, supper is my anchor. All of the ages have found their way, nightly, here. To nourish.

The kids know the routine by now, it is their hour to play or be put to work and so they avoid the kitchen and usually as the sun sets the kitchen is all mine. My sink faces west and I've watched the sky in every shade, all of its seasons.

First is the question, the endless one: more with less. It is the question of the cook and of the artist and the question of living: to use what you have, make do, stretch, appeal, reimagine. We still are trying.

Begin where you are, with what you have. Start small. The humble onion. Does every art begin like this- some ordinary fragment which we find is layered: a thought, conversation, suggestion-- some scent or memory or two words which bump together and there they sit, stirring, in the mind.

This is where I live, the stirring. A realm of circles and cycles and turning, cups filling up, the emptying and washing, gathering, holding. The ebb, the bowl, the roundness of things.

And this is art: to stir, to taste, to wait. To soften or deepen or listen. Knowing when, the delicate proportions of vinegar to oil, a pinch of salt, grace and truth.

It is about color and flavor and all of the textures of the earth. It is memory and comfort, ritual and season and celebration. It is to pleasure and to Life.

It is the end of the day's labor and the fruit of the day's labor.

It is the end of the day and the hallowing of the day.

It is using what I have and what I have to give.

It is the best art I can make, supper.

2 comments:

Ruth said...

So lovely! Wish you could come to supper, or I could come to supper at your house!

http://thereisnosuchthingasagodforsakentown.blogspot.com/2013/11/poetry-friday-ode-to-onion.html

Jessica Stock said...

me too Ruth!