I had the most intense flavor memory last night while polishing of the remainder of the Hagen-Daas honey vanilla ice cream from Valentine's Day. I took a bite of ice cream and then breathed in through my nose and smelled a thousand beeswax candles. I was suddenly in St. James Cathedral in Seattle in the little Mary chapel looking up at the gilt stars on the ceiling. One of my favorite places, one of my favorite times. My vielle, Hildegard, Margriet, Anna, Molly, all the ladies from choir. My short dresses and chunky shoes and good legs from the early nineties. All in a spoonful of cream and honey. Was that ever my life?
Also, I have a gallon of honey that Grandma Beth gave me for Christmas from Uncle Stan's bees. It is delicious and the kids beg me to give them spoonfuls of it all day long. I also have a cookbook written by Grandma Beth's sister called BEE Prepared: Cooking with Honey. I'm working on it, trying to be more like the industrious Andersen's (Grandma Beth's family) who always seem to be so organized and prepared and healthy with their herbs and whole grains and desserts made with honey. Not to mention their admirably thrifty ways. Where did my thrifty gene go?
One more thing: I'm reading Nourishing Traditions for book club and getting all excited about lacto-fermentation, un-pasturized dairy, cultured dairy and bee pollen. I'm not feeling excited about cow brains. Am feeling excited about bone stock. I'm also reading What to Eat by Marion Nestle, In Defense of Food by Michael Pollan and Food Matters by Mark Bittman. Simultaneously. It's like a fun house of food revolution imagery. But I love it.
1 day ago