I had a cup of soup today and the first bite took me back to a certain time. It was a chipotle tomato soup and at first I couldn't place the spice that was standing out. But then I figured it out - cinnamon (or maybe nutmeg, they taste the same to me). When I lived in Iowa City ten years ago my boyfriend at the time cooked a lot for us and he would add cinnamon to his tomato sauce. And I didn't really like it, the odd sweetness, the almost tangy spice. I wanted savory herbs, which seemed to fit so well with the tomatoes. I have been thinking about my cooking experiences lately and trying to figure out when my passion for cooking began and it started in an old house in Iowa City when I was in my early twenties. We re-decorated the dining room so that we could throw dinner parties. We took down all of the Bob Marley and Grateful Dead posters and hung odd prints from thrift stores. We cleared books and papers off of the window seat and added pillows. We bought a few old lamps to set about and then we got to cooking.
I have so many memories about food. And I need a place to document them. I need a place to write about what is currently going on in my kitchen. I want to remember everything.
We are in the process of moving into a new place. I have not yet cooked in my (new) kitchen but I have sliced a pear for some friends. Standing at the counter, in an almost dark kitchen, thinking about entertaining people in a new home - such a special little moment. I have been making a list of the first few things I would like to cook. At the top of the ingredient list - apples, cheese, phyllo dough.
So here is my winter kitchen diary. And when the weather warms it will turn into my spring kitchen diary, and then summer. And then you know. It's finally time to start putting this down, the story that runs constantly in my mind. I can't wait to share things with you.
