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Karma Free Writing will be offering 27 Days of Karma Free Writing Prompts starting on the 1st day of Spring. These writing prompts are designed to stimulate the creative process for writing your personal story - and beyond.
27 Day Karma Free Writing Prompts - Honorarium
The 1st 14 days are free. To go the whole 27 days there is a $27 honorarium.
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April
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- Day #26 - Theme: Tantrum
- Day #25 - Theme: "Releasing on the Exhale"
- Day #24 - Theme: "That is so me!"
- Day #23 - Theme: "Food."
- Day #22 - Theme: " I would NEVER ... "
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- Day #20 - Theme - "The Liberty Bell"
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- #18 - Theme: "Listen & Follow"
- Day #17 - Theme: Intimacy
- Day #16 - Theme: Lies
- Day #15. Theme: "What connects me in my relations...
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April
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About Me
The Food I Love
ReplyDelete1.
My latest food fetish is sashimi that I cut myself. I buy a big tuna steak at Costco on the evenings when they have it. It’s usually a Wednesday evening, and I’m exhausted after getting the kids off to school for my final school morning of the week, teaching three hours, doing prep, and teaching my workshop at the Learning Assistance Center, but since I’m out of milk and everything else by Wednesday, I go to Costco.
Kuniko showed me how to slice the raw tuna across the grain. I have low-sodium soy sauce and a tube of wasabe. I slice the sashimi. I eat it—many, many slices, more than I could ever afford at a restaurant—at my computer, my eyes tearing up from the addictive sting of the wasabe horseradish, my tongue savoring the slick, soft, cool fish. Do I just imagine it, or does the protein go straight to my brain and make me much smarter than I felt when I dragged myself to my car after school?
2.
In college and after college my favorite meal was a glazed buttermilk bar and coffee. Glazed for the sugar lift, buttermilk bar for the crunchy outside, warm moist inside. Of course I smoked cigarettes in those days, so I never gained a pound, even when I had buttermilk bars multiple times in a single day. I didn’t care for glazed donuts—too light. For me, donuts had to be heavy, like the ones Grammy fried in her giant, dangerous kettle of molten lard when I was a child.
3.
Almost everything about Sunday was horrid, but morning puffs were so heavenly that I could usually stay happy until I had to put on scratchy clothes and pinchy shoes for Sunday School. Mother made hot breakfasts every day of the week except Saturday, even after Daddy died and she started teaching. All of her breakfast breads were homemade and delicious, but morning puffs stand out. Here’s how you make them: bake some puffs that are a hybrid of muffin and biscuit. Then roll the puffs first in melted butter and then in cinnamon mixed with sugar. OMG, OMG. Cinnabuns in the airport simulate the smell, but they can’t touch the taste.
4.
Reflections: Hot breads remain my weakness from back in the days of Grammy’s donuts and Mom’s morning puffs. Food equals love, or one form of love at least. I gave food preparation a wide berth for most of my 64 years, but just this year, my 12-year-old daughter has taken up cooking with a vengeance. I’m her sous chef, and cooking together is surprisingly sweet.
I love food. It’s healthy to eat. But, we have to eat right. It’s shocking how complicated that has become especially with the last 10-15 years in America. I co-wrote a press release about First Lady Michelle Obama’s favorite campaign—namely, Letsmove.gov. How inspiring to see her dedication and drive to make this happen within one generation. It’s not about fad diets, or vanity. It’s an urgent cause and quite frankly, a life or death matter--kept quiet so far. A dear girlfriend of mine struggles with major weight issues. I feel fortunate—not just for my “good genes” and high metabolism, but that I grew up differently. We had no soda in the house. Once in a blue moon, I’d hear the word, and I thought it was just ginger ale that the adults got served at my father’s cocktail parties. It was like the gin and tonic. Not for kids. We had tree houses to climb in and grass to run around in, outdoor and indoor swimming pools to dip and dive in, T Ball and then baseball, badminton, squash, tennis, mountain biking, skiing and hiking, cross country runs, gymnastics.. Maybe because I was a tomboy, I didn’t worry about what I looked like? My father would have to barter to get me to wear a dress. I still own more pant suits and jeans than gasp—a one piece dress. That was before boys became boyfriends. Food and eating should be about nourishment. About being strong and feeling good. Not the sticks and stones of high school bullies and co-workers and bad significant others. I’m lucky, my body has kept up, even when I got the early signs of carpal tunnel. Tennis elbow is painful—it wakes you up at 3am due to the unstoppable throbbing that hot and cold packs can only subside for an hour or less. So, my personal mantra? I only go on a date if there’s some physical activity like rock climbing or even just a walk in the park. I sit on an exercise ball instead of an office chair to help my tendinitis and posture. My 95-yr old Grannie often reminds me: an apple a day... Because I might have enough bad luck that Murply's Law should be renamed, and financial & legal demons to combat daily, but.. I have my health. Nobody can take that away from me. That's priceless.
ReplyDelete---
Sorry fellow bloggers for being a bit MIA... My building in Boston endured a big fire (all over the news, and I was on TV w/ kitty).. I'm staying at a hotel with super ssslllooooowwwww internet connection. Couldn't find the blog link.. Helpful if it's included in the emails.. Good to be back!
The dining hall food was bland. Fake scrambled eggs and sausages we called monkey dinks. But the dining hall wasn't about food. It was the place that, if I timed it right, I'd see him.
ReplyDeleteWhen I did see him I couldn't eat. My stomach went all jumpy and I felt like a demon was inhabiting my body. She was out for lust and conquering the handsome Canadian with the blue yes and Barry White voice.
Every woman wanted him. He was dangerous, charming and seductive. Others called him a chump.
The only thing I remember eating that freshman year was the pie.
Maria and I went to Young's Diner on a winter Thursday afternoon. Just a block from campus, it was an escape from the monkey dinks.
I ordered my favorite treat with a cup of tea: blueberry pie with thousands of the tiny, wild Maine blueberries. All syrupy and soaking up a homemade crust.
I ate the pie slowly, letting the blueberries sort of melt in my mouth and then chewed them slowly to make the $1.29 treat last.
My back was to the door, and Maria said, "You'll never believe who's coming in the door coming over to see you."
I looked up and it was him. For me. At last. I beamed a huge smile, filling my face. We talked for a while and he asked if he might see me at the Down Under Bar that night. I flashed another smile and said yes.
He walked out and Mariaa burst out laughing, but a pitying kind of laughter. Then she handed me a mirror.
Blueberries were stuck all over my teeth. Yes, I finally get up close to him and what does he see? A blueberry stained mess.
He and I played and loved each other off and on for the next four years. We lost each other. But I still love blueberry pie with the tiny little berries.
Every birthday my parents would take me out to a nice restaurant. Since they had five kids, they tried to spend some quality time with each one of us. I was the oldest so this tradition began with me.
ReplyDeleteMy favorite thing to order at a nice restaurant was filet of sole almondine. The thin white flakey fish melted in my mouth as the sliced almonds and butter sauce dripped down my chin. I loved the flavor of this dish. It was probably the sauce more than the fish, but the texture of the fish and the buttery sauce combined were mouth watering. To see the beautiful lightly filleted soul delivered to our table and placed in front of me was such a delight. The buttery, fried smell, and the lovely presentation with thinly sliced almonds on top was just right. It made my birthday so special to get to eat filet of sole almondine. Mom never made it at home.
It was spaghetti with butter, not red or green just white. Simple. I just saw Spa in spaghetti wow that could be why I loved it so much. My father liked it that way, just plain. He also liked Jell-O cherry or lime. I loved the color. My mother would make it hot for me so I could drink it. I couldn’t eat set Jell-O for some reason. And we always had a glass of milk, French bread with butter. My dad loved butter. It was a wonderful family dinner.
ReplyDeleteIn high school it would be the fish sticks. Something about hot and tasted ok. Not like the other food they served us.
Today my favorite is Moroccan style lamb chops with preserved lemon couscous and fresh broccoli. Each bit is a delight. The tastes are so inviting. With the sauce and all the spices. Simply perfection. I get to feel like I am traveling to so far away place. They always make me feel special. It probably the tender loving care the chief puts into the dish just for me that make it even taste better. I love the environment too. Of course, a glass of champagne.
The encore, the desert. A warm Scharffen Berger Flourless Chocolate cake, (sm brownie sz) with hot fudge in the middle and creamy peanut kind of frosting, caramel and roasted peanuts on top and lots around the sides. On a beautiful dish for the presentation. And a wonderful glass of the reserve estate red of their choice as it is always changing.
We didn't have any money in high school.
ReplyDeleteWe'd hang out at the Pizza Hut. I drank Pepsis and ate their chef salad. It was a big salad with pepperoni on it. I found it exotic. I ate it with their french dressing. It was red and sweet and tangy.
Every time I went to the Pizza Hut I had a chef salad and a Pepsi.
What I really loved were the pepperoni slices and the dressing. If I could've ordered a bowl of pepperoni slices and salad dressing I would have eaten that.
There were thousands of us crammed into the Pizza Hut. Almost no one ordered anything other than drinks. Respectable adults walked in and immediately left when they were met with the din of noise 8 billion teenagers made.
They stopped making the salads. Then they told us we had to leave after an hour if we didn't order more than a drink.
They ran us off.
That Pizza Hut went out of business.
I finally caught up.... at least for the next 2 1/2 hrs before Josh posts another one...
ReplyDeleteHere is the last part of my writing tonight.
4. I love and have a sensual relationship with food. I nearly always prepare it my self. I start by crushing whole spices and peppercorns in my pestle and mortar, then the garlic on my board with the back of my favorite knife; the one from Mexico that is shaped like a machete and can slice a tomato just by looking at it. I become completely engaged and transported when I eat like this. It is a refuge. I am performing an essential act of survival so I have to concentrate on it. If my face is full I don't have to think of anything to say to you, after all, you manage quite well by yourself. So much so that I over-indulge.
The other night I ate three pizzas all at once.
I had them in my freezer.
Purely for emergencies.
Thin and crispy.
Just like me.
I hope the emergency has passed. And Erik I hope you and all in your building are ok.
ReplyDeleteThank you- we are all safe and sound. Just displaced for now..
ReplyDeleteGreat stuff, thanks to all. I am hungry from your writings and hungry for your writings. Yum!
ReplyDeleteA piping hot plate of Pad Siew from Triple Tum Tender calls to me today; the steam rising off the wide noodles, the thick gravy, the beef, ginger, the broccoli, the sweet smell, my mouth awaits the taste reminding me of summer rains in Bangkok, the hints of chili, garlic, oyster sauce, a bay leave, a coconut, chopped nuts, a touch of cilantro, all of it chewable, melting, authentic.
There was something about the search for food that gave us little comfort…Us being myself and a few of my white, entitled, supremely middle class, 19 year old droogs. We had no idea how to fend or cook for ourselves. We had lunch passes to the cafeteria, no cookware, no resources to get off campus and explore. Well, we did have our feet…we could’ve walked someplace, but the places walkable were shit. Places like, Doug’s, where they served potato bread smeared with wood. Or, McKorkle’s, where they just served gravy… you had to bring in your meat, potatoes or rice, they did not supply it. The Kettle was where they melted things, The Blue Crab served beer nuts and beer, The Shack had their famous French imported tables and dripless candles from Hungary before dripless candles had been invented, fine silk table cloths, cutlery from Portugal, a smartly mustachioed man of 67 years old who never spoke but was the best Maitre’D in town. He waited silently, patiently for customers each afternoon beginning at 5pm sharp. No one bothered to tell him that the bar stopped serving food in 1974.
Salvation arrived when we found Runza Hut…a staple of our childhood. Someone had a car or stole a car and by accident we found Runza Hut blocks from the capitol. A Runza starts with daily homemade dough, stuffed full with ground beef, onions, cabbage and secret spices, baked and then served hot. Add a side of onion rings and a Coke... Man, that’s good eatin’.
My grandma Tilly used to spend the night. She would come out to our suburban home from her brick house in South Omaha, the old place on 36th street, across the street from Richmond Gordman’s, down the street from the packing house that still worked off the stockyards. She was Lithuanian, still…even though she had moved to the states in the late 20’s.
My grandmother made blintzes for us in the mornings she would spend the night. She would wake up at 4 in the morning and start the batter. These were the best, and were never recreated quite the same by her daughter. They were eaten with butter and jelly on the inside, sometimes powdered sugar sprinkled over. They were as thin as paper and melted in one’s mouth. At one sitting in my childhood, I ate over 23.
Last week I felt fat. So I took a tennis lesson. Saturday I rode my motorcycle out of town and ate continuously; Mexican food in Lake Arrowhead, a half rack of pork ribs at Pappy & Harriet’s, more Mexican food in Banning, a bunch of grilled chicken, salad, mac n cheese last night for dinner. Today I will fast a little bit. Probably bake some cookies. I spoke out loud this morning about how I need to start eating right, do some sit ups…it’s fun to finally imagine beginning a physical, healthy practice too.
Back from paradise... almost caught up.
ReplyDeleteNo special birthday meals, no horray, mom is making...
Only memory is creamed spinach, the boil in a bag kind.
We had to split it four ways and it had to be perfect - there were many fights over who got more in those little yellow bowls.
I'd squeeze every last drop out of the clear plastic, the cut open the bag and lick any remnants of sweet, creamy goo.