Little things

I don't know why I feel so smug. It's been months since I've stepped onto this soapbox. Plural months. Time has gotten away from me and I've been busy running back and forth to the monstrous complex that runs the length of E. 42nd to E. 46th on the East River. It's an odd leap from food and recipes to policy and hunger, though not an unconnected one. I'm still formulating my conclusions.

However, today I am  smug. I revived a brick of brown sugar into a moist pile of molasses soaked sugar cane. I feel almost maternal.

Maybe not so exciting to you resourceful kitchen gurus, but for someone who didn't grow up with a food mentor to elicit the tricks of the trade, I'm psyched. It's like I fed a baby or gave change to someone on the corner. That brown sugar needed me. And I have an official piece of advice to pass on to my future kitchen monsters. Who needs to know it came from Trader Joe? Well, you do I suppose. 

It was right there on the back of the brown sugar bag, "If product does become hard, pour into a medium bowl and cover with a wet kitchen towel and leave overnight. Fluff the rejuvenated sugar with a fork and return to container or pouch." Voila. Sticky granules of goodness. 

Oh whatever. I was impressed. 

The point is, starting small is good, right? Foodstuffs are calling my name again. The Meyer lemons asked me to put them in a jar with plenty of salt, a few cloves, two bay leaves, a cinnamon stick and some coriander. I did. They're happily marinating next to me on my desk. This afternoon's chicken carcass hopped into a pot with some flaccid carrots and wilty leeks and is bubbling away on the stove giving off a divine smell much better as sum of parts. And a certain butterscotch cookie recipe is soon to fall into this odd quartet of little things. 

That's all. Just starting small.