Stuffed

I realized this week, to my amusement, that though I have no memory for lyrics, no head for direction, and hardly any recollection of poetry past original reading, food sticks with me. If you say eggs, I think of The Hours (raw), The Runaway Bride (various) or Angela's Ashes (boiled). Bread is A Wedding for Bella; baked potatoes, The Secret Garden. (I always feel so lucky to have butter and salt and pepper for my baked potatoes.) Lobster is L'Engle's Ring of Endless Light, goat cheese Heidi...the list goes on and on. My refrigerator is a cornucopia of references.

I suppose I shouldnt be surprised; cooking is a pretty fundamental part of who I am. But I am still wonderfully amused.