Saturday, January 7, 2012

simmering

I remember not wanting food to touch each other on my plate as a child.
Salad tainted by sauce was a tragedy;
Beet juice eddying near the potatoes a grave concern.
Strangely enough, I grew up to be a woman who loves casseroles and stew and rice bowl.
These gray days of the New Year call out for the warm, rich flavours of one pot meals;
The sweet smell of supper simmering;
Ladles full of colour;
Chunks of crusty bread;
Vegetables, comfortingly tender.
I didn't like soup as a child either, but that's a whole new post.

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