Slow baked eggs and cream with golden potato, flaked salmon, spinach, and dotted with a delectable olive Dijon mustard I found foraging on the discontinued items shelf during late night all alone in the store shopping. More earthy spiced winter squash pecan soup (the pecans soaked to make the purée smoother), and to contrast the warmth and slight sweetness of the squash some briny oily olives and capers that always remind me of the taste of the sea and an Irishmans poem, the one that reminds me the most vital ingredient in any meal is love. . . . There was a sunlit absence. The helmeted pump in the yard heated its iron, water honeyed in the slung bucket and the sun stood like a griddle cooling against the wall of each long afternoon. So, her hands scuffled over the bakeboard, the reddening stove sent its plaque of heat against her where she stood in a floury apron by the window. Now she dusts the board with a gooses wing, now sits, broad-lapped, with whitened nails and measling shins: here is a space again, the scone rising to the tick of two clocks. And here is love like a tinsmiths scoop sunk past its gleam in the meal-bin. --Seamus Heaney
Posted on: Fri, 26 Sep 2014 15:37:29 +0000
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