Yesterday’s post was cathartic. Not just the food, although yes, the biscuits themselves took me home and soothed my soul. It’s also the process of cooking, the ritual of eating, the pleasure of taste and familiarity… and the sharing. This blog has become a link, an everyday link, across the country to people Christian and I love. So thank you for that. To those of you who find this blog on accident, welcome. Welcome into our life, our kitchen, everything.
Food is so personal. Few things in life can every be as personal as what we eat and it’s a pleasure to share with you and hear your feedback. We love hearing that you’ve tried a recipe, that you, too, went out on a limb and flipped a crazy pancake and broke the yolk, or nearly singed your taste buds playing with spices. The adventure is what makes this all so much fun. It’s close to home, because what we eat in some ways defines who we are. Boxes us in. Frees us from boundaries. It’s all what you make of it.
We don’t have a recipe for you today. Today, armed with the lessons of a seasoned sharpshooting veteran and all-around tough old bird, we took our shotgun up into the mountains for target practice. It’s a little unsettling after lessons involving predictable clay pigeons going in this direction at about this speed, to have wildly flying clay pigeons upon which to train your eye. It’s cathartic in a way entirely different than my home-y biscuits from yesterday. Shooting isn’t about the adrenaline, it’s not about the gun powder, it’s not about the roar of the gun in your skull. Shooting well requires calm, confidence, composition. If you have any hope of hitting a target you’d better hope you left all your troubles at home so you can focus on what’s moving in front of you. If anything but the target occupies your mind, you’re bound to miss.
Partly as a joke, partly as a gift and show of support, I bought Christian some Valentine’s Day Peeps to use as targets. I imagined, for whatever reason, that when they were struck by BBs traveling somewhere in the 400 m/s range, they’d vaporize. POOF. Gone. Alas, like so much of our industrially-processed “food” these days, ’twas not the case. We laughed, moved on to more recyclable targets… but nonetheless had to share the results.