Walk in the Woods
Short: What’s Your Favorite
A poem, about my attempt to answer a simple question.
The dumbest question anyone might ask me, a new acquaintance perhaps, sounds small upon hearing.
It’s a basic get-know-you query, made by adults and children alike.
And because of the basic nature of the question, most folks give dispassionate, ill-considered answers.
But, not me, not ever.
When asked, I pause to consider my options…all of them,
Having been blessed with a depth of experience and range on the subject.
I ponder the old and the new, the textures and aromas, colors and flavors.
Naturally, I do not arrive at a simple reply.
How could I?
How could anyone compare one dish to another?
Consider a perfectly roasted duck, succulent and aromatic, wrapped in a thin pancake and smoother’d in hoisin sauce,
Smokey, meaty, unctuous with hints of anise and orange peel. It’s a perfect bite of food thanks to centuries of the Cantonese process.
Now imagine a humble peanut butter cup: nutty, creamy, and chocolatety. Sweet and savory. Better than gold. South America’s best gift.
Should I go on?
Because I’ve not yet begun.
What’s my favorite food?
Don’t make me laugh.
Need I mention the glory and world favorite know as pizza?
Or just how wonderfully clean yet deeply rich in flavor a fresh slice of fatty tuna can be?
And, what about the joy of a Parisian croissant, buttery and crisp?
Or…a medium rare ribeye, mustard-base pulled pork, or butter pecan ice cream?
I’ll never be able to give a quick answer to such simple question.
I’m too far down the hole.
The world is delicious, land and sea,
And I’m blessed to know it.
Vol III: #39 Pizza Is Good
A heavenly aroma builds in my kitchen every time I knead pizza dough. The flour and sour dough mix with the olive oil to produce a smell unique to the pizza making process. A similar scent will hook your nose outside any legit pizzeria in cities like New York or San Francisco. It’s hard to describe but you know it when you smell it. Only frying bacon or freshly brewed coffee can rival its glory.
A heavenly aroma builds in my kitchen every time I knead pizza dough. The flour and sour dough mix with the olive oil to produce a smell unique to the pizza making process. A similar scent will hook your nose outside any legit pizzeria in cities like New York or San Francisco. It’s hard to describe but you know it when you smell it. Only frying bacon or freshly brewed coffee can rival its glory.
The origins of pizza are quite ancient beginning with flatbreads topped with herbs, fruits, and/or vegetables. Our modern version began when the Spanish introduced tomatoes to Italy in the 1600’s. Crazy as it sounds, the US love affair with pizza didn’t take off until after World War II when out troops returned from Italy. And, being who we are, America took our love of pizza to the rest of the world. (Our ability to sell what we love is unmatched. iPhones, Disney, McDonalds, and cheeseburgers are also universal.)
The most recent summer taught me how loved pizza is. It’s a truth I knew but didn’t understand, like gravity or the popularity of pumpkin spiced lattes. And should you travel anywhere, stop by a shop and watch the children, watch their reactions when the pie hits the table. In all my years in the food industry, no food or dish inspired more joy or enthusiasm. Pizza is the worlds most favorite food and I dare anyone to prove otherwise.
So, the next time you bite down on your favorite slice remember this: someone in Paris or Kathmandu is doing the exact same thing. (Or did early in the day. Timezones.) And the world is not as divided or big as it seems. God gave us the ability to find each other reagrdless of how wide the gaps appear.