Yesterday I made love with the love of my life during five hours. We parted and I felt pretty depleted. Both emotionally and physically. We both went our ways, picking up our kids from different schools. At my kid’s school the Thursday market was on and my youngest daughter’s class due for bbq’ed sausages. As a raw-vegan culinary addict I love anything food related, including grilling supermarket sausages. Or is it the handing them out to kids and parents alike, I love? A few hours later, cold and almost dark outside now, I’d parked myself behind the stove in my own kitchen, baking mini pancakes made of many left over egg yolks (debris of croquettes made without liquid egg white to coat them), self raising flour, diary milk, turmeric, smoked red chillie and cumin. Creating and enjoying it, my senses fully open; it struck me. I want to discover what food is all about. Or what food and me are about. Our relationship, if I may.
Recipes of a pretty woman is meant to be a superficial account of what I do food related. Or maybe it is about all the senses. An expression of feelings, emotions, beauty, sadness, open or closed, restraint or let go, mixed with sweetness, spices, deliciousness and mishappenings, sensuality and short cuts. But most of all it will surpass the mind, logic and the world as we understand it.