I just finished an exceedingly satisfying meal and am sitting here at the computer listening to Eva Cassidy, drinking a mug of decaf, and feeling mellow, full, and thoughtful.
Baked chicken, so tender, coated in breadcrumbs laced with hints of pepper, salt, a kiss of Tony Cachere's, a little parsely. Zucchini sauteed in olive oil with chunks of white onion, coarse ground pepper, salt, and two healthy splashes of balsamic vinegar. Just before serving, a short handful of shaved parmesean tossed across the top. An uncomplicated green salad, and sourdough bread.
I wanted to eat so slowly...to enjoy the festival going on in my mouth...little hits of zing, the sweet onions, the profoundly chickeny flavor of the meat, the slight firmness left in the zucchini and the warm melted glory of fresh cheese, the tang of sourdough embracing the cream of butter.
The music and the coffee add to my mood of contentment. Eva Cassidy's voice is drawing from me a desire to do several things...dance, pray, write...but instead I sit with my eyes closed, nearly doing all of them at the same time. The coffee is the touch of a friend who understands this feeling.
God is so close at moments like this...settling beside me to watch the sun go down and the dreams rise up.