1.

Look! I made these Fr. macaroons. Awhile ago, I admit. But, I remain proud of them. The delight I took in eating them remains as well.

2.
While an undergraduate, a friend of mine dated one of his professors. Lately, I've been thinking of an anecdote that my friend shared from their affair. While cooking together, my friend burned some garlic they were sautéing, and the professor responded caustically, sharply criticizing my friend for not knowing how to properly sauté garlic. Mind you, burnt garlic can destroy a dish. But what a fuck: was it not enough that the turd was already misusing his authority. I would hope that any teacher would respond to such a mistake more compassionately. If knowledge, experience, and authority serve only to reiterate one's own proficiency, then they serve poorly, with an existence more akin to the virus than the organism.

3.
In the last several months, I have
-burned rice.
-undercooked rice.
-overcooked shrimp which consequently became rubbery.
-dried out multiple pieces of fresh fish.
-served innumerable lukewarm dishes.
-forgotten to salt.
-cooked scrambled eggs until they were horridly dry.
-served at least one dish that made both Kenneth and me sick.
-botched an entire batch of vanilla pudding, which never thickened properly. Kenneth generously ate one portion of the milky soup, but he refused additional servings.
-broken yolks while frying and poaching eggs.
-burned garlic.


4.
I feel dreadfully guilty about food wasted because rendered inedible and even food merely tolerated because ill-prepared, but mostly I marvel at all the wonderful things I, my friends, and restaurant chefs manage to pull off. Subtle morels, berry sorbet, barely boiled asparagus with a dash of salt and splash of lemon, basil chiffonade on blood oranges, ground pecans in the flour used to batter fried fish, and Fr. macaroons: miracles all. What a pleasure to know them and share them.