We are thrilled to have Andy Gladstone- foodie, writer, neighbor- guest blogging for us this week. Enjoy the ride!
Zukemono bowed her head softly, in a subtle, silent and submissive manner belying her fierce passion, power and potencies. She lightly turned and returned to the kitchen, and having absorbed the spectacular visual vibrations pulsing from the delicious pinkpurple Colorado sunrise, she felt ready to direct that organic cleansing energy toward a wondrous culinary treat. Just as surely as the sun had scrubbed the night from black to light (and using much of the same energy), Zukemono would transform her lethargic sliced cabbage into a lively, high-steppin’ tangy fusillade of exploding transformative flavor. As a form of soothing meditation, and in preparation for her morning cabbage capers, Zukemono gently allowed her gaze to settle on the finely sliced red cabbage reclining lightly in its silver bowl. The light in her eyes reflected the sweetest mysteries of the universe, a light unbounded by the mortal laws of humans, laws which exist for no reason other than to filter us from the terrifyingly incomprehensible complexity and simplicity (different strokes for different folks) of our vast universe. The energy emanating from her eyes played with the cabbage; first, gently ruffling the slices as if a gust of wind wafted over the bowl, then with a touch more vigor slowly swirling them within the bowl as if with a large wooden spoon, and finally, with one long, deep smooth inhaleexhale, coupled with a lowering of her eyes, Zukemono utilized her harmonic energy to send the cabbage tumbling into the air, gaily dancing several feet above the bowl. Oh how those cabbage cavorted, bathing in and absorbing the life affirming energies of the universe, swirling in a manner common to both the whirling dervishes and grateful dead twirlers of yesteryear. After an irrelevant amount of time, the cabbage slices, now thoroughly exhausted, ecstatically free of all thought, healthily rid of the carbon-dioxide traces of old breath & trembling with the overwhelming inherent power within the purity of Now were finally, fully ready for their plunge to pickledom.
Of course there’ll be a chorus of scoffing skeptics singing, even as the cruciferae joyfully frolic to the rhythms of their whiny declarations. Yes even the naysayers, with their soulless vision of a blackwhite logical world, helplessly resound with cosmic music every time they open their mouths to deny its very existence. Just as Nero pickled while Rome burned. The carefree cabbage know, if you can’t beat ‘em, dance to ‘em. Not that Zukemono would ever wish this tale to be told. She knew reactions to her curious attunement with the beating heart of mother earth could bear far too many parallels to the Salem witch trials of 1692 and that there had been far too little human evolution since that time. Only a closer look at the still photo (taken moments before the red cabbage waltz) explains how this story clambered across the table, scampered along the kitchen floor, scurried out the back door and escaped into a world where the magic music of the universe oft terrifies and demands are made for tax-payer funded ear plugs, blinders, and prisons.
It’s the kumquats (no, those aren’t eggs!!), stealthily pretending to languish languidly in a bowl. In fact, they are maintaining laser-like focus, poised to pick up even a hint of vibration emanating from that large pile o’ cabbage beside them. If ever there was a loose-lipped fruit, bursting out of its skin to make mischief of an innocent cabbage promenade, it’s most certainly those juicy kumquats. Truth be told kumquats have been a bit jealous of cabbage since first they met. From the beginning kumquats suffered from a bit of an inferiority complex, to them it seemed size mattered. And though they were universally praised for their luscious fragrance and spectacularly tart sweetness they always considered the cabbage an obnoxious vegetable due to its showy, lackadaisical style, the way a single head would slouch to fill a bowl designed for 30 or more kumquats. The final straw, however, was the kumquats awareness of the pizzazz produced by a pickled cabbage. Despite their diminutive physical stature they had lorded their opulent tangy nectarous palette-tickling abilities over the cabbage. Once they discovered that their vulgarly large & lazy acquaintance could set off its own set of spectacularly flavorful mouth-watering gymnastics it was time to make the Hatfields & McCoys (of the future) look like a couple of BFFs.