A beautiful bite,
A fury of fall flavors,
To knock you around in whirlwind of wonder.
A simple treat to leaf you fluttering
Smiling sweetly like a child
Eyes satisfied with the delights of the simple spoonful.
Although I am currently struggling with the complications of Autumn, when I think about the warming and comforting fall flavors, I get those good Goosebumps. The chill is coming, but warming up with food is amazing. This is the definition of comfort food, it is a feeling of safety, it is a physical reaction of an internal hug. It warms you, calms you down, makes you forget about the harsh reality of daily living, transports you to serenity, if even for a moment.
Maple, caramel, clove, allspice, ginger, bay leaf, molasses
Pears, apples, pumpkin, squash, grains, beets, brittle, fennel, saffron, persimmon, bananas
Spiced rum, hot apple cider, dark roasted coffee, oatmeal stout, caramel
These are the flavors on my mind, and nature is my tool of inspiration.
This dish is to remind you of fall at a Midwestern cider mill. Apple cider doughnuts tossed in a rum-maple glaze, squash mousse flavored with chai spices, bacon brittle, dried apple shoe strings with sage.
I have perhaps the best idea ever for a dessert. I am going to say a word that I never thought I would ever say pertaining to a dessert, especially when the word “great” or “best” or “anticipation-worthy” is involved.
So here it is: s’more.
There, I said it. If you immediately lose interest, I understand. I certainly would not listen past this word when someone is trying to describe an innovative product, a salivary-induced dessert, and new idea that will spark imagination and delight.
Also, I will not say “deconstructed” because the dish is not deconstructed, it is reconstructed. But that word will not appear in the name or even in the description based on principal- the principal that deconstructed is an overdone and a cliché concept. Anything resembling that terribly passé word will be lumped into that same, shameful category.
I am thinking about calling it “Fireside” or perhaps “The Rebirth of S’more.”
I don’t want dull childhood memories of this store-bought mélange of ingredients to come across as misleadingly simple or contrived. This ‘new best idea ever dish’ amplifies the best part of the s’more while also improving upon the aspects that are underwhelming.
I can’t say too many details about this idea without giving away too much. You have to wait for it. The intended restaurant where this is to début is not open for business yet. The doors are not open, the fires are not lit, the tables are not yet set. Until then menus are printed, until the water glasses filled, until your cocktail shaken, until the music spinning, full disclosure on “Fireside” is clandestine.
The best part of this over used childhood treat is in the applying of heart to transform the ordinary into the somewhat extravagant. The parts themselves are simple, but together they transform into a classic. Since the best part about the s’more concept is the interactive involvement of everyone, a active role will play a part in the enjoyment of this dessert.
The underwhelming part of the this treat is the reason why I don’t even think that the s’more is good. It is this gooey glob with a single note sweetness. Let’s be honest, it’s boring. Outside of the bonfire, it’s bland. The novelty trumps taste, the overall impression being lack luster. There are only two flavor profiles, being chocolate and graham. I think I can do better.
Unfortunately this is call I can tell you until El Che opens its doors, until there is wood for the hearth, until someone can slide your credit card. Until then, keep your tongues anxious and your minds curious.
Rosie the Riveter
My diamond lens
The kaleidoscope to my perspective
My sexy sidekick
My modern motif
You make the world beauty
And simply stated.
I am not good at being an adult at times. I am very hesitant to change. But now it is about time that I grew up. It is about time that I face the music, the facts, and the reality. I have some nice tools and small modern technological devices, this combined with my minimalistic attitude, I have a hard time splurging on more material and disposable things. I don’t want more anything. My life is complicated enough thanks I don’t need anything else to worry about.
But alas, it is time to grow up. I am going to buy myself a real phone, a new phone, a smart thing.
Me and my magnetic fingers are concerned.
Wish us all luck.
I have magnets embedded in my fingers. Tiny yet powerful metallic pearls are in each of my fingertips, creating an imaginary disruptive pull that corrupts all things electronic or even modern. It is like my heart is made of aluminum and my capillaries copper, but my fragile glass hands and plastic butterfingers interrupt the flow and break everything imaginary. That is why technology and I are at odds. We are arch nemesis because we repel each other stronger and definitively.
When I am around other people with their phones, computers, cameras, smart anything, I have to remember to keep my hands closed as to not disrupt their virtual communications. If the word gets out about my tremendously terrible affect on all things technological, I will loose all friends, both real and imaginary.
This is why when you see me, my hands are clutched, straining to keep the world in virbatious and magnetic order.
Art is about having a vision, expressing your stylistic mind, and being flexible with your grandiose designs. A concept can be amazing, but sometimes in practicality the idea does not pan out. Creativity is about being fluid, not getting too caught up in the one direction that you thought would drive your boat, steer your car, build your model empire.
I want to be successful, I want to make things so delicious that it is magazine worthy, that gives a lasting impression on your taste buds and also on your imagination. I had an idea, I thought about it a lot and hard and in many ways. I try not to get married to an idea without the proper courtship, but when an idea is born you get attached. The concept was solid, the individual components were stellar, but together the harmony was wrong.
I have great taste, but if the final play does not match the concept, it is time to tweak. Not start over, or consider the idea a failure, you have to be flexible and confident enough to come up with a new strategy.
Do not consider yourself a failure because it didn’t work out the first, second, or hundredth time. I want to be perfect the first time so bad, that I have to remind myself that art is an evolution, and being successful takes a lot of patience. Creativity is knowing when something is wrong, and coming up with new ideas to lead your project in a different direction. You might surprise yourself with the new, unintended outcome.
Art is growth, simplicity is complicated, and rules are fluid.
Today was a learning and humbling day, but through this process you gather strength in your artistic eye and salivating mind.
You look at construction workers tryin’ to puzzle a piece into place, and you wonder, how? How can these seemingly buffoons be building things so integral, so influential, so grand? I wouldn’t trust these people to walk my imaginary dog. I don’t think they could fix my toilet. Why do we trust them to construct monstrous projects, to connect vital links in this functioning world, to construct an entire hidden infrastructure full of moving parts and near catastrophes? To change the skyline, to tear down the natural world in order to construct a new one? These men, old school, outdated, and detached, are figuring out individual solutions that connect to a much larger and unify city scheme. These tradesmen trying to get on by like you and me, can impact the world more than you and me combined.
I do not understand how the world keeps its balance, sometimes