So-today is my second day off in the last 5 weeks, outside of one day I took two days after spraining my ankle while trying to watch a late night meteor shower (I took on the nickname "Kankle" for the remaining weeks) . I am relishing being home: I read a
magazine with my coffee, ate a proper breakfast~ok, brunch, I didn't get out of bed until
10:45. After 5 weeks and countless hours, I have noticed that
the body does not respond the same anymore at 40 that it did at 30! Summer has turned into fall.
I have mounds of housework to do, as I did not have the good
fortune of finding a housekeeper to come help out as I normally do. They never
do as good a job anyway. So, I have done the bare minimum, washed my stinky, stale, kitchen
smelling clothes, knowing that a few loads a day will whittle the rest away. And I scrubbed my bathroom, and, well, that's about it.
Went yesterday to pick up some essentials, have my filthy car washed, and have
my gray roots covered. Hair required a re-do and set my schedule back a few
hours. I had to endure incessantly loud, classic rock for 3 1/2 hours, and by
the time I left the salon, I thought I might hurt someone. Then, off to Whole
Foods. Not much into shopping, an announcement came over the loudspeaker that
they were tasting a flight of small production Italian wines. PERFECT!!!! I
bellied up to the bar, which was packed with middle aged-elderly men, all
jovial and welcoming. I nestled into the middle (upon their urging, of course!), and proceeded to have my glass
filled by a very Italian, bohemian/hipster Johnny Depp doppelganger, who also
proved to be extremely intelligent, passionate about his wines, and articulate.
I ordered a round of olives to share with my ad hoc comrades, and enjoyed a
passing moment of feeling "normal" again. After that, I negated to grab some of
the very things for which I went there, but did leave with a case of Italian
wine. Oh well. What one loses one gains in other ways.
I came home, and the boy next door arrived with a basket
full of fresh garden tomatoes and basil, to which we would add my fresh mozzarella.
I had a plate of charcuterie, nettle pesto, langoustines, and marinated
artichokes. We popped open a bottle of the very Soave I had sampled an hour
before. I could not stomach any more California wines after the last month! A
lovely evening, the first I've had in many weeks, spent feeling like a normal
person, in the quiet, easygoing fellowship of my dearest love.
That being said, I also am going through a bit of withdrawal. I also created some of my most amazing dishes, pushed myself beyond my perceived physical and mental limits, and had some of the most gut wrenching laughs I've ever had, with my fellow cooks. We wearily arrived every morning together, despite our puffy eyelids, sore backs, hips & legs, burns, and cuts, and were excited to create our installation art masterpieces over the course of sometimes 16 hour days. We ate our humble meals together, usually while standing at our cutting boards. One day I had a hot dog and an ale for breakfast!
Tomorrow, off to the coast. The sound of the waves and being next to the
ocean, with no schedule to attend to, will surely continue the mend. Of course, we will pack a cooler!
And so it is. The life of a “private” chef.
