Cooking, reading and taking pictures in the warm sunlight that fills the kitchen on this quiet Sunday morning is as close to worship as my soul currently needs to approach. Bubbling pans and knives on wood combine with muffled snippets of casuistic argument from an annoying radio talk show that is tolerated because the spoken words aren’t processed by my mind that is contentedly elsewhere. I feel as I imagine would a cat on hearing the strings of unintelligible noises that serve as his master’s voice. As long as those noises are not too annoying or threatening I, like the cat, will just keep purring and, oblivious to anything beyond the light aural massage provided by the extraneous sounds, happily get on with what I’m doing. Music would be better if it was music that I liked.. today…at this moment: but exactly what that would be has eluded me so I’m making fishcakes and just about still purring but the vexatious timbre of both presenter and caller is bringing me closer to choosing the silence for which I should have opted in the first place.
Much as I enjoy an expansive Sunday lunch with family and friends, the pleasure for the cook is tempered by the amount of work and preparation that is demanded to ensure that all the components, both people and food, come agreeably and deliciously together at a chosen hour; which hurdle it is essential to clear cleanly if the moment is to be remembered kindly. The corollary is that cooking food on Sunday for two people, who know each other as well as two people can, is without any limits on time or custom. It may well be that no food at all is prepared, yet a very pleasant day is passed. Today we will enjoy the fish cakes, that I made in the sunny peace of this morning, at whatever time those fish cakes are called on to take a final bath in hot butter and oil. They’ll be consumed with a peppery rocket salad which, apparently, is viewed with nasal disapproval by the savvy restaurant going public. It would seem to me that the down the nose view is common to most food at the time of eating but down the nose looking is taken to suggest disapproval….oddly enough, turning one’s nose up at something is not good either. In the case of our supper, noses will only twitch with the comforting aroma created by butter, potatoes, salmon, anchovies and parsley together with notes of apples, cinammon and more butter coming from the crumble warming in the oven. Another day of Sun well lived.