Soaring Through Blue

the ineffable glory of spontaneously planned recipes

The other day, PapaChef and I singingly and dancingly pushed our three grocery carts through an obscure Japanese store in Seattle. Having no idea where we were going when we purposefully got into the car, we surprisingly found ourselves there after having intentionally driven there, spontaneously.

However, if I tell you the name of this store, you see, then it won't be special anymore. This is OUR store and we only ask for the privacy that naturally comes with this site.

Most people don't understand our quotidian displays of foodly affectation and affection. We're always a little dazzled by our own special uniqueness, knowing that we are the only non-Asian people to shop here.

Most people, namely little old Japanese ladies push by, and we just know that they're chatteringly exclaiming over how wonderful it is that we grace them with our presence. "Look at that young MARRIED couple and how worldy they are!" they must exclaim. We look into their shopping carts and congratulate ourselves on our own unique finds and for avoidingly avoiding the instant ramen noodles.

What a barbaric yawp we create!

We even helped our little nephew understand that he likes this store, too, (it took weeks but now he tells everyone!) so that we can tell all of our blog readers and they may marvel at how we selflessly imparted our non-foodie food-loving wisdom on this child.

Midget Peanut, it seems, also loves this place, and not because we told he she had to in order to stay in the family, either. She normally chatters away, but this time she was busy reading the coconut can labels for hidden gluteny ingredients and perusing the notebooks for the one upon which she will soon write her parent-bashing memoirs. Even at this age, she reads and clatters away with a pen and on Twitter, hunchedly and starvingly for days on end, as much as her mama does, you see.

PapaChef and I discussed what to have for our three lunches and two snacks later that day. Silly as this sounds, unlike most people, we sometimes forget to eat half of one of those lunches, spontaneously. I don't know how this happens, since the mere fact we can eat caul fat and bacon fat and duck fat and sausage fat three times a day is pure delight, astonishingly. But we ineffably eat breakfast late, after sleeping until at least one in the afternoon, so we were not yet starving from not eating for a whole afternoon.

Barbaric yawps all around!

And then Twitter distracts me, or I have to check out another cookbook for recipe "adaptation" inspiration, or the muscle memory of my many daily soft naps calls and I must rest, for I can only work hard for an hour or so every day before I grow weary. Unlike non-foodloving most people, I must take a few weeks off soon, or I will grow even more faint from exhaustion, spontaneously.

On this afternoon, we happened to be standing in front of bags and bags of ethnic food which I find funny, gigglingly, subtlyly. I am grateful for this silly ethnic food, however, because without it I would not survive, and of course I would not be able to write this site about all the million of foods that I can safely feel slitheringly sliding over my tongue, ravenously.

Barbaric yawp!

PapaChef loves me so, as we are so very much in love, and insists that we eat a little produce with our ineffably proteinated meals, so I reached for the ginger. The smell of fresh-cut ginger is one of my favorite sensory experiences in the world, which as you know I like to describe with lots of flowery words.

I break off a leg of ginger, leaving the rest of the root to rot in the bin, and stick it under Midget Peanut's nose, telling her that she must love it too or I will lose this blogging gig WHICH I DO FOR YOU PEOPLE SO APPRECIATE ME NOW (shoutout to Dooce!), and I will assume that she's not actually our child, because my child will of course love all foods, lovingly and gobblingly. Goodness lordy me, we just know that this child will grow up and get a Food Network spot before we can blink!

We have been gently shoving herbs and spices on Midget Peanut since she was two weeks old, so this was nothing new for either of us. Please do not be alarmed, though. She leans in and obliges, because it's easier than listening to me throw a tantrum not unlike the ones I have when PapaChef does not feed me hourly, sweetly, and slavishly. However, I picked the stinky rotting ginger and not the nice stuff, vegetables being mostly foreign to me, and she squeals in protest while we know that it's really happiness, making us both cryingly teary with joy and admiration, admiringly.

Barbaric yawp, ineffably!

Let me now tell you about all the books and articles and everything else that I read, ravenously, but do not finish, sadly, because of all the time I don't have due to it being spent on you, dear reader, and writing this site for at least 30 minutes of every day. Unlike most people, you see, I work hard and love to read, astonishingly and brilliantly, but not pretentiously or braggingly.

Oh but goodness lordy gravy me! I feel faint with hunger, so I will leave you now to relish food lovingly and will forget about all the reading I do but don't finish for now. I will post about that on my private networking site page in the Seattle network, but please don't look me up- we don't need the attention. All we want is to share our gluten-free love with you.

I will post a "recipe" for spontaneous pork ramen later. Do not ask me how printing out a recipe, buying the proper ingredients, and following said recipe can also be spontaneous. I do not have time to think about these trivial things- I am too much in love with life and do not like these kinds of constraints. You may think that I am methodical, but in fact I embrace creativity!

As with every other food ever created, I could eat this at least four times a day, preferably in bed so as to properly grease up the sheets.