Oh my poor neglected blog all shriveled and sad and lonely. A victim of Facebook favoritism. Facebook, that siren... with its lilting song of mere status updates not requiring a beginning, middle and end... nor a plot, a theme, a motif or even villagers. So easy that Facebook.
Blogging requires the blogger to set forth some narrative prose that has more substance than the mere announcement of getting out of bed in the morning or the next activity on the day's agenda... or complaining that it's Monday (again), Tuesday (again... sigh), or even about aching feet, sinus pressure, the weather or the remarkably ubiquitous: FATIGUE. Tiredness runs absolutely rampant on Facebook.
My blog has suffered from my lack of camera. A situation that I am fervently hoping will be remedied in the very near future. Because, my friends, as you know I love to cook and when cooking, a picture is worth so much more than a thousand words. It's the difference between making people drool (and fantasize about how tender that pork tenderloin really is) and making people think, "Eh... salad? I've had salad. What's the big deal?" When in reality it was a salad of such perky freshness, such luscious textural variety and gloriously vivid vegetable-y hues that not to share it before consuming it is a shame. Not a shame of epic proportions, but a shame nonetheless.
I love that food draws people together. I love that food makes people happy. I love that food appeals to all the senses and satisfies the soul in such an important and human way. I love that food is an expression of creativity and an expression of love in an endless variety of ways. Who hasn't felt loved by the person who cut the crusts off that PB&J or roasted a Thanksgiving turkey to golden perfection or gotten up early to make you your favorite breakfast? Hot gooey cinnamon rolls, spicy, rich sausages and juicy fruit salad with a glop of cool honey-orange-vanilla cream on top. Maybe a cup of coffee with cream and some tangy OJ.
There's no bad news in food... even spilled milk or a fallen souffle or burned toast. Well... maybe rubber chicken and paste-like faux mashed potatoes at a banquet you're obligated to attend, but hopefully your rubber chicken penance will be rewarded with some halfway decent dessert. Peach cobbler? Or a really good brownie...
Whenever we celebrate there's food. It's not a party until there's chips, right? And chips, dip and some beverages?! Oh... it's ON, baby! (Barley pop, anyone??)
So... soon. Soon, my friends. I will return with such a cascade of fabulous food photos as you've never seen. And we shall all rejoice!!!