Archive 08/20/09 - (3)

   

Aromas

                                                                  

The yawning, awakening cabin

Is yet bathed in the aromas of last evening's cooking —

The sweet marinara sauce I made, from scratch.

 

Had you seen the joie de vivre dancing across my eyes,

You'd have thought I fancied myself a world-class chef,

As I meticulously prepared those carefully chosen ingredients

 

And incorporated them, one by one,

Into the eight-quart pot among the kitchen's amenities —

Dicing, mincing, slicing, scissoring, chopping, grating,

 

Getting slowly, ebulliently lost in the expanding fragrances

Lifting from the old electric stove,

Into every crevice, niche, and fiber of this cozy habitation.

 

Indeed, I was so absorbed in the steps of my sauce recipe,

I never stopped to ask why I was so impassioned

(Aren't there times when we just let ourselves get carried away?):

 

1. Add a couple tablespoons of olive oil; heat till hot;

2. Cut off ends of ten garlic cloves; peel skin; mince; throw in;

3. Mince as many green onions as possible, more; toss in;

 

4. Add tomato puree, preferably three pints;

5. Follow up with two small cans of tomato paste;

6. Stir in one pint diced tomatoes;

 

7. Now, the secret to it all: one-half cup Beaujolais-Villages;

8. Add one-half teaspoon salt — just a smidgen;

9. Sprinkle in one-eighth teaspoon, approx., of pepper;

 

10. Cut up, with scissors, one teaspoon oregano leaves fresh off stalk;

11. Ditto with leaves of garden-plucked basil — two tablespoons;

12. Grate one-half cup Asiago cheese; sprinkle into the sauce.

 

After an hour of elated fascination with the process,

I stirred the simmering, thickening "gravy," with my wooden spoon,

Every fifteen minutes, for the next two hours.

 

I then boiled water, in another pot, adding two teaspoons of salt,

And, in the final minutes (the last six, to be exact),

Dropped in all fourteen and a half ounces of angel-hair pasta.

 

When it was done, I drained it and stirred in the sauce,

Transferred dinner to a large bowl, which I brought to the table,

Then served myself the first of three platefuls of steaming delight,

 

Along with a green salad and thin-sliced Italian bread,

And the evening was complete.

This morning, I know what I'll have for breakfast: these aromas.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                                               

 

08/20/09 - (3)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
 
 
 
 
       

 

 
   
Site contents Copyright © 2017, Louis Daniel Brodsky
Visit Louis Daniel Brodsky on Facebook!