So, I had a most delicious cup of coffee and a crispy, flaky almond filled croissant with a lovely friend this morning at a place on Broadview, across from the great big park with a lovely view of the Don in all its fall glory. It filled me up, physically and emotionally. We gossiped, and laughed, and the coffee was REALLY good. I mean really good. Rich, robust, not Starbucks burnt. The croissant was dusted perfectly, and the marzipan inside was rich and buttery not dry.
A day or so ago, my friend Collette asked me what I am most afraid of in this new leg of the adventure - with the advent of chemo over surgery - and rather than afraid, I am sad. I think the thing I will mourn most is the loss of food - making, chopping, eating, the all-encompassing action of participating in meals - as the centre of my world. Truth be told, cutting anything with my left hand is getting tough, even pizza crust - can't even barely unscrew the wine! So too will stirring, flipping, etc. become difficult soon enough, until the chemo goes in for the kill. It will also, apparently kill all taste buds - for a while. No vino. No tasty food. [Insert long drawn out sigh and big fat salty tears here.]
Gabrielle gave me two books which are proving a salve - Home Cooking - A Writer in the Kitchen by Laurie Colwin, and More Home Cooking -A Writer Returns to the Kitchen by same. Such great chapter titles as: Jam Anxiety; How to Cook Like an American; Desserts that Quiver - they make me laugh out loud, as does all of her writing. She is like a soul-sister - irreverent, in love with life, food, and stuff.
I like her position on food and family -
"The fact is, family is variable, but our stereotypical image of it is not. And so as we sit at our family tables, with our children wandering and our table full of family we are on dicey terms with, we are still hag-ridden by the image of the happy white two -parent family...Let us imagine a family table. Some people are blood relatives and some are family by choice. We mean people who are deeply and lovingly connected to one another, people we can count on." Amen sister.
I feel lovingly connected to that croissant and coffee, and will hold the vision of them in my head as a "go-to" vignette for my next head-pounding MRI experience.