I sub-titled this blog looking at food because of my dual interests in both how food looks and how it tastes. Food in its natural state, uncooked, growing in a field, in a package, in a pan, on a plate. And even, it seems, after it has passed the point of being edible – a fallen ice cream cone flattened on the sidewalk, for example. Or the contents of a small pot of white rice which had been forgotten in the fridge for perhaps the better part of 2 weeks. Wondering where that cute little pot with the nice-fitting lid was, I was happy to discover it resting on the bottom shelf, tucked behind something else. [Note: smaller is often better when it comes to refrigerators. Less space for clutter]. I opened the lid and found this:
It was a science project of the softest blue and led to a string of thoughts something like this: little ottomans of tufted velvet; moss-covered stones on a damp forest floor, moss so soft-looking that you want to run your fingers over it; blue the colour of blue cheese, delicious; Danish; blue+white striped sailor shirt; mold and spores; penicillan; medicinal. Then I chucked it out in the garbage and washed the pot.
Today being the shortest day of the year, I offer up some light. Blue light. I have always had a thing for blue lights. When I was a kid my mother took me downtown every year to see the Christmas windows at Jordan Marsh, a big department store. We would walk over to the Boston Commons afterwards and look at the trees lit up in coloured Christmas lights. Each tree was always decked out in one single colour, always with the old-fashioned, large bulbs: a red tree, a yellow tree, a white tree…my favorite was always the blue trees. Blue light is so magical, whether in nature, as my friend Leslie described in a recent e-mail from upstate NY: “Very strong moonlight out for the past several nights. Long shadows and a lovely light blue effect on the snow”; or in a man-made environment, such as the long corridor of blue that is created by the runway lights on a darkened airport tarmac. I love having a window seat on a night flight in order to lean my forehead against the glass and stare out at the glowing blue as the plane awaits its turn to taxi down the runway for take off.
I adore citrus fruit in an indescribable way. Simply put, it tastes divine to me every single time I smell or taste it. Citrus fruit could possibly be a contributing factor to me considering a move to a sunshine state. Or, at least visiting more often. It is the one thing (well, one of the main things) that would prevent me from ever sticking to a strictly locavore diet. It seems very fitting that citrus comes into season during the darkest time of the year, a season of cold weather and limited sun when something so bright-tasting is exactly what’s called for. This morning when I opened a clementine orange I held it up to the light and saw it become a glowing, orange orb. And I realized it looked remarkably similar to the moon last night during the lunar eclipse. I had set my alarm for 3am (though truthully, it wasn’t all that much earlier that I had finally fallen asleep due to much clomping around upstairs – Dear Upstairs Neighbor, Shhhhh, please!). I hopped out of bed to see the moon from my window – a big round moon glowing a dark orange, with just a sliver of white-coloured crescent remaining unshaded. The full eclipse had not yet happened, but I was too tired to wait for the moon to go completely dark. I went back to sleep with the curtains parted slightly and the big moon hovering outside the window.