Thursday, April 27, 2006

Neither here nor there

Recently, I've been recognizing certain food associations I have. For example, every time I run cold water over steamed broccoli or asparagus, I think of my friend's somewhat neurotic father, and how one New Year's eve he was hosting a party, and he asked me breathlessly if he should run cold water over the green beans so that they would keep their color. The answer seemed very important, yes, it was very important that the beans stay green. And the other day, I cut an orange into slices and thought of my Dad, who offered me a slice of orange or grapefruit nearly every morning when we'd have breakfast together, he would be just back from swimming laps, I would be just on my way to school. When I have a bad tomato, one that is mushy even though it appears ripe, I think of L., who came to Maine from Indiana, (though in second grade we all thought she was coming from India) and always made a point of telling me how amazingly superior the tomatoes were in Indiana, so good that you could eat them like an apple. Salami and butter recall afternoons spent at the overly-warm house of T., playing dolls and drawing with large beeswax crayons. There is something incredibly compelling and comforting about the associations, and it feels good to write them down.