Food. I don’t know about you, but I love food. First mention, food may not jump to the forefront of your mind as fitting the category of rare find. However, I’m sure there are, or have been, certain foods you would consider a personal treasure. For example, some that come to mind are my mom’s pot roast, stuffed cabbage, cream puffs, banana nut cake with creamy butter icing, dad’s lasagna, Aunt Tootsie’s goulash, Aunt Louise’s homemade strawberry jam slathered on a torn off hunk of warm, unsliced pumpernickel bread fresh from the Polish Town Bakery. Oh, and her homemade bread and butter pickles were to die for.
Food is a physical essential of life. Other than meeting the nutritional needs of our bodies, some foods also supply the nutritional needs of our souls. I love cooking. How about you? I love the entire process. Whenever I’m slicing, dicing, pureeing…measuring, mixing, stirring…beating, pouring, folding, I stay keenly focused on the task at hand. The rest of the world and its mundane, trivial nonsense is completely shut out of my mind. Cooking is calming, relaxing, and therapeutic. The smells, tastes, and textures of well-prepared meals are a great source of personal pleasure.
An excellently paired wine does much to enhance the pleasure derived from a great meal. Like food, drinks in general are a necessity of life, as well as an enhancement to spirit and soul. There is “having a cup of coffee,” and then there is, “having an awesome cup of coffee!” Starting the day with a rich, aromatic, cup of java can have a huge, positive impact on one’s approach to the rest of the day. Well, at least, that’s how it is with me.
We humans drink out of necessity as well as for pleasure, and on some occasions, are known to drink to excess. Hey, I’ve been there and done that a good many times, and each time, have paid a handsome price afterward. But then, haven’t we all? As a social creature, I enjoy times spent over drinks with family, friends, and new acquaintances. While living aboard a boat in the Florida Keys, I became somewhat of a recluse and would drink alone. Well, not totally alone. I had dolphins, sea turtles, manatees, birds, and fish, keeping me company. I acquired a taste for Captain Morgan’s Private Stock. Its smooth, richness poured over ice became a nightly ritual sitting out on the aft deck, watching sunset after sunset. Aye, mate, it was the rum that turned me into a handsome pirate. Can I get an arrrgh, men?
Whether French press brewed coffee in the galley at sunrise, wine in the afternoon, or rum on the rocks at sunset, it’s an open topic for debate whether drinking enhanced the quality of my writing. There is no debate, however, over whether drinking enhanced the quality of my pirating. There would be no point in debate. I could never be convinced otherwise.